


that's you in the mirror

by Silverine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Body Swap, Canon Compliant, Feelings Realization, First Love, Galaxy Garrison, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Accidents, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Oblivious Lance (Voltron), POV Alternating, Post Season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-07-12 21:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverine/pseuds/Silverine
Summary: He tries to speak but the sounds coming from the depths of his chest aren’t his. That hand isn’t his either, but he has seen it. He’s pretty sure of it. Shiro’s concerned voice reaches him. Lance’s terrified eyes watch the way his lips move to ask:“Keith, what’s wrong?”Keith.Keith?While Team Voltron examines the remains of the mysterious machine that cages a fallen Altean, Lance is too busy pondering about his mixed feelings regarding two of his teammates. Sadly, the enemy chooses that moment to hit him and swap his conscience with the last person he expects: Keith.And both paladins find themselves inside the bodies of the ones they less understand... and most wish to decipher.Set after s7, Garrison background, canon-verse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! How is the hiatus treating you? Hopefully better than me lol. So, this time we're picking up from s7 and mocking that cliffhanger with an unlikely twist. This will address Lance's crush on Allura too, so expect some very light allurance here and there —because we stan a bi king— but don't worry: this is a pure klance fic. A mutual pining klance fic, in fact... And the "uncomfortable" aspects of body swaping are kept to a minimum too, for your enjoyment.
> 
> Infinite thanks to my dear and talented friend [Kunfetti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/pseuds/Kunfetti), who is my beta and also has dealt with my whiny ass during weeks. Love ya! <3

In the deepest level of the Garrison, team Voltron stands at a prudent distance from the strange contraption in front of them, trying to make sense of what they see. Almost buried in metal, firmly hooked to the remains of the mysterious abomination that had left them out of commission for almost a month, a woman lies in what appears to be a restless slumber. Allura and Sam Holt are trying to explain the few things they know about this situation.

“We still have to find a way to disconnect her from the mainframe,” says Sam. "We were able to transport her here without major incidents, but every time we try to touch anything near her body, the meters peak and we have to back away before it’s too dangerous.”

Allura nods in confirmation of his words.

“We can tell she is an Altean. However, if we so much as approach her, the structure around her body enters an alert state. We fear it could self-destroy or try to harm people around in a similar way as it did with Voltron, so… we still can’t detach her,” adds the princess.

“She seems to be semi-conscious, given the way her eyelids move. But no reaction towards auditory or visual stimuli yet. Instead… we get these pulses from the machine. It’s honestly puzzling,” concludes Sam.

Lance observes the creature and feels a bit of pity at her pale face and furrowed brows. She looks in pain, trapped inside that thing. Her colorless skin looks sickly, and he redirects his gaze at Allura. The princess is watching her fellow Altean with worried eyes, as is to be expected.

It had taken months for the Garrison personnel to find the power source of the robeast that suddenly attacked and caused so much havoc. They didn’t expect this result, though. For two days, they had tried to unhook the woman from the broken remains of the incomprehensible machine that caged her, with no success. The ominous unidentified energy flowing from her vicinity made it impossible even for Allura to figure out how this machine, that was broken beyond repair, still managed to cage a living creature without killing her and stay powered the whole time. They really needed to know how this machine worked. After all, they still lived in fear of another one of these abominations falling from the sky, ready to wreck their reconstruction efforts.

The team ask some more questions, and Lance realizes it’s been a while since the last time they were all together at one place. Too occupied with their new duties, interacting with the Coalition visitors and assisting the survivors of the massive planetary destruction, team Voltron has become a beacon of light to all humankind. Which is nice, but also means a lot of work for them, and more scattering around these past months after they recovered from their last battle. So, it’s good to see them all there, including Coran, Romelle, Shiro and the five paladins. Lance is currently standing by Captain Shirogane’s side, mesmerized by his bright arm. Shiro catches him peeking and shoots him a playful smirk that the red paladin answers with an apologetical grin, trying to pay attention to the conversation again. He was doing it again, getting distracted by the smallest things.

“So then, could it be that the machine is using her to keep itself alive by its own means? Like, could we be dealing with a more advanced artificial intelligence than the robeasts?” asks Pidge, her eyes full of genuine curiosity.

“We don’t know for sure. The lack of physical reaction to stimuli on her part, but the appearance of reflexes on the structure around her makes us suspect that. You know, these weird pulses we get from it,” answers Sam, showing them his screen. “We can’t be sure yet, but they seem to be bonded by some complex neuronal and biological links. We still can’t determine the nature of them though, nor their impact.”

“Have you tried waking her up, on her own? From afar, I mean?” asks Lance, putting his hands behind his head. Everyone turns to him, and he feels smaller before their unimpressed looks.

“Wanna try poking her with a pole?” jokes Pidge, grimacing, “Or maybe a kiss from a prince will work…”

The team chuckles and Lance feels his cheeks warm.

“Geez, it’s just an idea,” he mumbles, sulking. He was trying to show interest, but knew better than talking at these meetings already, why did he have to open his mouth? No matter how sweet is Allura’s pitiful smile, he still feels stupid.

Especially when he can hear Keith scoff by his side. That sound… he should be used to it by now, but nope. That sound can still get on each and every single one of his nerves.

“What, got a better idea, _Leader_?” whispers Lance, dragging the last word and making sure only Keith can hear him.

“How about shutting up and letting them do their job?” retorts Keith, also in a bitter whisper.

Lance maintains the cold eye contact for a few seconds, deciding. He probably could answer, but honestly? He doesn’t have the energy to deal with Keith right now. Not after having lost so much time already, wondering why he is being so difficult and increasingly distant to him these past weeks. And also –not like he’d ever admit it— wondering why is it worth losing some precious sleep hours over it.

He just lets out a resigned sigh and tries to follow the discussion again, without much success. Not only because he feels Keith’s eyes lingering on him a little while longer, almost burning a hole on his Garrison uniform, but because these sour exchanges only contribute to fuel the hot mess that is his mind lately.

It shouldn’t be like this; after all, he is where he wanted so much to be: home. His family is safe and sound, their relentless energy the same as always, even more so now that they feel they need to be on par with their two heroic Garrison children. So, even while work is hectic, he feels accompanied and satisfied. Also, bad jokes aside, the team works like a well-oiled machine now. Everyone got a notorious morale boost from meeting their families, and their never-ending list of tasks keeps them occupied and functional while they playfully banter over the comms. Unlike their long, lonely nights lost in the infinite darkness of space, Earth is warm and welcoming, even while it recovers from the biggest tragedy of its history. So… why is he suddenly so  _stressed_?

His eyes wander to Allura’s profile while she speaks, and Lance gulps.

 _So_. Princess Allura. Things are going surprisingly well with her. Not like anything “big” has happened yet, but the subtle shift in their dynamics since they came back is making him feel in the air surrounding them that maybe… juuuust maybe, she is willing to give him a chance. She had visited his family a few times —they tried so hard to hype him in front of her because _of course_ they would—, and she was delighted at their warm welcome. Slowly but surely, her old scowls have been replaced by new casual smiles and chuckles here and there and then, last week, the very peak of his old hopes and dreams had manifested: they strolled around the Garrison at sunset by themselves and with no previous planning. She simply came to him, all sweetness and smiles, and grabbed his arm while they talked about light topics and laughed in absolute peace, as if it was a normal thing they would always do, subtly flirting like there wasn't a war on pause over their shoulders.

He should be ecstatic. He is almost sure he could have made a move there, in fact. THE move, if you will.

But then _he didn’t_.

And that’s been chewing on his brain for days.

Lance McClain is no chicken but, certainly, he is also not accustomed to being reciprocated. And he is willing to blame that for his unusual lack of advances these past months, and not the fact that he might be feeling a teeny-weeny little bit… uncomfortable with this development.

Like, he isn’t getting cold feet or anything! It’s just, anyone would feel a bit intimidated, right? Receiving the attentions of a beautiful, perfect, life-giver, galactic coalition leader, last of her race alien princess. He used to try so hard to get her attention it was almost a game, and now that it came to him unexpectedly, it caught him off guard. It’s just that. It must be that. It can’t be anything else.

Or _anyone_ else, for that fact.

Shifting his weight and automatically crossing his arms in a defensive posture, Lance fakes listening to Sam and stealthily steals a glance at the guy by his right. Keith is standing close, his eyebrows still pinched after their last exchange. The red paladin quickly turns his eyes away, feeling a mix of shame and anger.

It’s all Rachel’s fault. His sister had made that dumb comment weeks ago and since then he hasn’t known peace.

During that long month it took them to recover, he was bedridden and pampered by his family. He had plenty of time to tell them everything that happened during his time away. After he told them about that time they were adrift in space without their Lions, his father had commented:

“Well ain’t that a tale for the future! You should write a book, Lance.”

He had smiled, self-satisfied, but then his twin sister had added:

“Yeah, and name it ‘Lance and Keith go to space and wreck some things’”

His whole family had chuckled at that, while he felt his stomach sink.

“Wha— why?!” he had asked, horrified.

And Verónica had unintentionally put the last nail to his coffin. In the fondest tone, she had said:

“Oh Lance, half your stories are about Keith. I’m glad you finally became friends! I remember how you’d rush to the officer’s lounge and rant about him for hours when you were in your first year. Who would’ve guessed!”

Well, no one would have guessed because that’s NOT true, thinks Lance, salty, and the proof is the current frown on Keith’s face. But still, since that day, he would spend a shameful amount of time looking at the ceiling of his room before falling asleep thinking about it. About _him_. It bugged him so much. Was Keith really that important in his life since… forever?

And why, pray tell, would he always end up thinking about this when he’s trying to concentrate on the Allura situation? This weird mix of ideas was totally wrecking his sanity and, yeah, maybe that’s why he’s been so out of sorts lately, and seriously... it had to stop. ASAP.

Noticing he had drifted for way too long from reality, Lance tries to snap out of his trance, but then a flash of light catches his eye and he discovers, in the worst way possible, that mulling about your personal life in front of an unidentified enemy is not the wisest move. At his left, Shiro steps barely half an inch closer to the creature and his arm suddenly starts shining, while the energy coming from the fallen robot peaks, manifesting itself in a dense cord that tries to whip him. The Captain manages to avoid it but Lance, by his side, isn’t so lucky.

Maybe if he had paid attention, his renowned reflexes would have been of some use. Instead, a hand tries to pull his unaware body back, clutching his shoulder but isn’t quick enough to save him from the strike that hits him right in the chest, throwing him back violently, while white noise fills his head.

And he’s suddenly falling into a whirl of colors, smells and sounds that blind him, deafen him, making him feel like screaming his lungs out. A sudden sense of familiarity mixes in the vertigo. There’s something emotional in the chaos, a thrill that goes hand on hand with the fear. Somehow, it reminds him of the first time he flew Blue.

Wait, no. There’s a more accurate one.

It’s weird how it feels _just_ like when Keith and he were blindfolded during that absurd exercise so long ago and ended up crashing their Lions, pathetically buried in the sand. Yeah, it’s exactly like that! The blindness, the G-force, the stomach tensing and leaping to his throat, then the impact, the confusion, and the momentary blackout. And finally, nausea.

Oh god, so much nausea.

Lance comes to his senses feeling his body heavy and strange, as if every bone was suddenly out of place. He feels truly sick; in a brutal effort, he manages to turn to his left and push his body up, just enough to throw up if needed. He somehow contains the impulse, shuddering and feeling his blood rushing in weird patrons around his dull body. He faintly detects another leg over his own, twitching while its owner is trying to move too.

“Lance, Keith! Are you alright?!”

Shadows are coming into his range of vision. He is utterly disoriented, having trouble even distinguishing the floor from the ceiling, the world spinning out of control. He is the farthest from ‘alright’ he has been in a long while.

“Hell no!” he answers through gritted teeth and then chokes. His voice sounds weird. So weird, he reaches for his own throat.

“Can you stand?”

That’s Shiro’s voice, and he is offering him a hand. Trying to focus on it, he extends his own to reach it, but then he feels his body chilling all over. That hand… something is off with _that_ hand.

He lifts it right in front of his confused eyes. Way too pale and veiny. Slightly shorter and calloused fingers, nails longer than usual. Said fingers twitch in front of him and, without thinking, he makes the joints crack. With barely any effort, they still sound like a damn nut breaking in half. He never could make his fingers crack like that before.

“Ah… ah…” he tries to speak but the sounds coming from the depths of his chest aren’t his. That hand isn’t his either, but he has seen it. He’s pretty sure of it. Shiro’s concerned voice reaches him. Lance’s terrified eyes watch the way his lips move to ask:

“Keith, what’s wrong?”

Keith.

_Keith?_

_‘I’m not Keith!’_ he wants to say, but instead, a horrified screech escapes from his mouth while he crawls away from Shiro, startling everyone.

“Keith! Calm down!”

He screams and kicks the person knocked by his side in his attempt to escape, or move, or whatever he's trying to do, and he turns to look at them. He follows the road of that body dressed in a Garrison uniform from its feet to its waist to its chest and then stops right before reaching the head as if his brain is preparing him for an imminent tragedy.

It’s not enough. Nothing could possibly have prepared him for what he sees there.

In front of him, he finds his own face just as terrified, blue eyes wide-open, dark skin now devoid of color, mouth stretching in mute panic. Lance and his doppelganger breath in and out for two eternal seconds, before they shriek with all their might, this time in unison.

And chaos ensues around them.

 

* * *

 

Not even in his worst nightmares. Not even after exploring the universe and witnessing the infinite potential it has to create and stir chaos, not even after knowing for sure that alternate realities coexisted, Lance would never have believed it if someone told him that he would end up swapping bodies with Keith Kogane.

The sun has set already after an entire day lost in this mess. Sitting side by side on one of the beds of the quarantine room, Lance and Keith avoid looking at each other while the rest of the team, Sam Holt and three doctors discuss the results of the exams they have conducted for hours, after putting them in a ton of different machines. They were even checked by Allura, but aside from that little issue of their consciences being in the wrong bodies, absolutely nothing seems to be wrong with them.

“The bodies are fine. Just abnormally low in potassium… but we’ve got that covered already,” announces one of the doctors.

“Geez, what a relief!” sneers Lance in a sarcastic, flat tone, that sounds even flatter in Keith’s voice. He presses his lips and puts both hands over his mouth. He had decided he wasn’t going to talk anymore for a good reason.

“Sorry guys, but we don’t… we just don’t have an explanation yet,” apologizes Sam. He looks at Shiro. “We think it had something to do with the crystal powering Shiro’s arm. Our theory is that the machine may have tried to switch to a better energy source, maybe intending to transport its own conscience to it, and you were hit instead. Still, we don’t know how it swapped you… it could take a while to figure it out.”

Both boys sigh.

“I’m so sorry guys. I never imagined that I could— sorry,” Shiro tries to apologize for the tenth time but both paladins interrupt him at the same time, shaking their heads.

“Shiro, it’s not your fault.”

“No, no, no, as if you could have known! Don’t worry!”

Shiro blinks confused at the words coming from the wrong mouths, looking even more guilty. Sam pats his shoulder.

“We’ll keep working on it. We’ll fix this as soon as possible, don’t fret.”

Lance is about to ask how long would ‘as soon as possible’ be, but Keith is quicker.

“Then we need to know what to do if there’s an emergency. I don’t think we can form Voltron when we don’t even know if our Lions will respond to us. We need to test that and think of a backup plan.”

Hearing his own voice speak in such a serious, dry tone makes Lance shudder and feel nauseous again. It’s like watching his evil twin bossing everyone around. The team peers from one to the other, with astonished eyes. They are far from getting accustomed to this change, just like the victims.

“Well. We haven’t had any alerts in weeks. Let’s count on that and try to remain calm, at least for tonight,” answers Allura, smiling softly at Keith, who cocks a thin eyebrow. Her cheeks dust of pink as she sends a guilty look at Lance, as if apologizing for gifting Keith with her smile by mistake or something. This makes him sigh, irritated.

“So… what, then? We just stay here doing nothing while you try to figure out this Altean mumbo jumbo?” he asks, and he sees Hunk and Pidge exchange confused and slightly amused looks at his interjection. Yup, that’s definitely him under the mullet.

“For now, yes. You must stay here, for the time being, to avoid encounters and so we can monitor your condition in case of any changes. All officials present at the moment of the incident and the doctors are instructed to keep it a secret. We don’t want panic spreading,” declares Sam, adjusting his glasses, while he looks at the paladins, Coran and Romelle, whom nod in agreement.

“Please don’t tell Verónica, then. I don’t want to worry her,” requests Lance.

“She won’t know. That’s why it’s better if you stay here,” Sam assures. “We’re going back to the basement and see if we find a way to study the Altean today. She must hold the solution, for sure. You two just rest for now.”

“B-but, wait… are we both staying here? _Together_?” stutters Lance, and he feels Keith looking at him with a disgusted expression. He grimaces and ignores him. If Keith didn’t like to hear himself stuttering, well, he didn’t like to hear himself sounding like a dick either.

“It’s better this way. I know it’s uncomfortable, but we just need to be sure we’re close in case of an emergency. Please… bear with it for a while,” begs Sam, with an apologetical expression.

After a short pause, both boys nod in reluctant agreement.

“All right, paladins! Try to rest for now and notify the nice doctors about any change you notice. We’ll bring news as soon as possible!” says Coran, trying to lift their spirits and signaling the door to the rest of the party.  

“Hang in there, guys!” says Hunk, and Pidge raises her thumbs.

“Call us in case you need anything,” Shiro still looks distressed.

“We will fix this. I promise,” murmurs Allura, trying to give them a reassuring smile while Romelle waves at them.

Then the door hisses and shuts, leaving the two paladins alone, sitting on the same bed, in front of a window through which the medbay personnel is going to check them during their stay.

This is the absolute worst, concludes Lance, after a couple of minutes pass and silence is already crushing him. The timing of this situation? Im-fucking-peccable, doing wonders on his already busted nerves. He’s even trying not to breathe too much, which proves to be really hard. It’s like the air in the room isn’t enough for the two of them. Queasy, he tries to sneak a peek at Keith on the corner of his eye but instead, he discovers an amusing and irritating fact: black hair blocks a good part of his peripheral vision.

This finding makes him raise a hand to his own forehead to brush the hair out of the way with a huff, but something on the ticklish sensation of the touch simply coerces him to speak against his will.

“How do you even see with these?” he asks, wincing at the sound of his alien voice.

“What?” grunts Keith, sporting an ugly scowl. Lance looks at him and feels the sudden urge to laugh. It’s so weird watching himself make such a grumpy face.

“These bangs, dude!” he blows air up and the dense hair in front of his face barely moves. It’s almost funny. Almost. “You know what? You better pray they fix us soon, ‘cause there are a lot of things I can tolerate… but having a mullet? Is definitely _not_ one of them.”

“Shut up and don’t touch— anything!” barks Keith, getting up from his spot. Lance follows his movements as he walks two steps and lands heavily on the other bed.

“I’d be doing you a favor, Keith, think about it,” he insists. Keith growls.

“How can you even joke while we’re like this?”

“Excuse me? I’m dead serious,” answers Lance, but this time Keith clenches a fist and, for the first time since the incident, he truly meets his eyes, furious. His gaze trails his own body in one quick, enraged sweep.

“Listen. This is going to be temporary, but in the meantime, you’re staying put, understand? I’m not touching anything, you’re not touching anything, and we both stay quiet!” he hisses, stretching on the bed with his hands behind his head, looking at the ceiling. Lance feels his new mouth curving into a smirk again. It’s just so funny hearing himself talk like that. Though he still wonders if this is just a nightmare, that doesn’t mean he can’t at least laugh at the situation, right?

Except, there’s a more pressing matter to attend right now, and it’s not very laughable.

“Okay, fine, but we’ve got a serious problem here and we gotta agree on how to deal with it right now,” Lance announces. Keith turns his head towards him again.

“The Lions?”

“No, even more pressing,” affirms Lance, shaking his head. “You see, we aren’t sure how long will it take us to go back to normal, right?”

“Yeah…”

“And there are certain things out of our control that could become a hindrance… you know. In the mutual understanding of our current uh… anatomy, we may encounter certain—”

“What is it, Lance?” interrupts Keith, his brows furrowing further.

“Well, in short… uhm…” Lance fidgets a bit and sighs. There’s no escape to this, after all. “I’m sorry, but I… really, _reeeeally_ gotta pee, man.”

Keith blinks twice and raises his hands to scrub his new face, before letting out the most distressed groan Lance has ever heard coming from him. He wonders if his body is just that dramatic on its own, no matter the occupant.

“Just… hold it, goddammit,” grumbles Keith between his fingers.

“Dude, I can try, but it’s you who apparently chugged a whole gallon of water before this mess and if we think about it these are actually your pants, so—”

“FOR FUCKS SAKE, LANCE! Cooperate?! I’m—” Keith groans again, now closing his eyes as if he wished to disappear, “— I’m trying to stay calm here?!”

“Me too, but I can’t under these conditions!” retorts Lance. He stands up and walks the two steps that separate him from Keith, crossing his arms and looking down at him. “Listen, man. I don’t like it either, but we gotta agree on this or else it will be even worse. We can do this. We’re both guys. More than that, we are… f-friends, aren’t we?”

There shouldn’t be any reason to stammer, but his late ruminations about their relationship make the word difficult to pronounce. Are they really friends? Lance thinks they were, at some point. Right now, though…

At least it makes Keith separate his fingers and look at him through the space between them. Lance pushes a bit more, trying to make good use of Keith’s voice to sound more convincing and less panicked.

“I think we can make some kind of, uh… pact. Like, you know. Not looking… n-not touching more than necessary. And after this? Not mentioning it EVER again. Whatcha say, do we have a deal?”

He extends a hand, to make it more serious. Keith sits slowly on the bed, still looking at him. Lance feels his stomach strange again, but not the same way as before. Instead of sick, he feels suddenly flustered at that look on his own features, that wild expression he knows so well and always manages to affect him. It’s incredible how Keith can make use of his muscles to pull that intimidating semblance, his personal mark, on another face. _His_ face.

“Fine,” concedes Keith, taking the hand and shaking it briefly. Then he lies on the bed again and turns his back to Lance. “Go, and don’t you dare taking longer than a minute, you hear me?”

“Ah… sure,” says Lance, with his hand still hanging in the air. He convinces his feet to walk to the door on the side of the room, still a bit clumsy.

As soon as the door locks behind him though, he feels his legs trembling and has to step forward to support himself on the sink for a few seconds. Catching his breath, he raises his face slowly and his stomach jumps again when he finds Keith’s face looking back at him with scared eyes.

A mirror. Of course.

“Shit,” he mumbles, getting away from it and heading to the stall. He has to breathe in and out a few times to gather courage and do what he must. He’s a paladin of Voltron. He has done worse.

Or maybe not.

He’s swiftly back in front of the sink and pretty sure he’s scarred for life. He has been loyal to his word and didn’t peek or anything, but still… Flustered and trying not to overthink certain discoveries, he washes his hands with little delicacy avoiding the mirror, but when he accidentally splashes some drops over it his eyes betray him, and Lance falls to the temptation of staring at his reflection again.

Under the soft lights of the bathroom, Keith’s face looks tired and slightly sick, just like Lance feels, but also shows a new unnatural sweetness that takes him by surprise. Lance blinks and tilts his head to the side, quickly taking in details like the length of his dark hair, the way it falls and frames his face, the bags under his dark eyes, the nice angles of his jaw. He swallows, tense.

There’s no denying it: this guy is really handsome. Always has been, and Lance feels tingly when he remembers the first time he saw him right there, at the Garrison. Quiet, antisocial and unfairly skilled, Kogane had made an impression on him from the beginning, with his striking eyes and black hair only contributing to making it worse.

But it’s okay, he tells himself, anyone with two eyes would think the same. If not for his rotten personality, Keith would have been the most popular guy of their year, probably. In a twisted way, he was. So, it’s not like he has to make excuses for his opinion, much less to himself… why is he overthinking everything?

He’s feeling so strange, even more so than before. Staring at his reflection is borderline terrifying, but if he forgets this is a mirror it’s like having Keith right in front, looking at him with curious eyes. No scorn, no bad blood, no walls between them. A harmless, calm version of his nemesis. His friend. His leader. His current annoying problem, and half the reason for his insomnia.

Maybe that’s why his hands move on his own.

Raising one trembling finger, he traces the scar on his cheek slowly. A long, clean burn telling a heavy story he doesn’t fully know, one he never dared to ask for. It feels smooth under his fingertips, the touch making his skin prickle all over.

He’s always been curious. It looks like it hurts, but now he can finally confirm it doesn’t. His fingers linger on the scar for a while longer, until a small smile appears on his lips and Lance feels his stomach flutter because, woah, that’s Keith smiling right at him. His cheeks heat a bit, his mouth upturns even more, and that’s when his pulse starts raging.

Okay, that’s… Huh. It’s just, it’s been so long since he saw something like this. When was the last time Keith showed such a relaxed, soft expression? To his mom, maybe? Lance registers how well it suits him, the image engraving in his memory, and he silently regrets that Keith seems to be smiling less and less lately. At least for him.

 _Especially_ for him.

Which is a damn shame, he realizes, just when a sudden knock at the door startles him.

“Why are you taking so long? Get out already!”

Keith seems to be kicking the door instead of knocking like the savage he is and Lance, in sudden panic, simply splashes water all over his head and opens the door, dripping.

“What were you doing?” asks Keith, frowning at his wet hair.

“Trying to do something about this?” says Lance, shaking his head and splashing drops everywhere.

“Stop that,” scolds him Keith, wiping his face and walking past him to enter the bathroom too, cursing under his breath.

“Hey! Be respectful there! I honored the pact!” yells Lance in Keith’s voice.

“Shut up! Go away!” answers Keith in Lance’s muffled voice through the door.

And after just thirty seconds he understands why Keith knocked. It’s truly unnerving waiting for him to get out while hoping he will honor the pact too. Lance paces back and forth in front of the window for a minute and then decides he should just sit down and look less worried, unless he wishes to make things even more awkward between them. Also, he should really do something about his flustered cheeks and the insistent throbs in his chest. He shakes his head, in an attempt to shake his ideas too. The image of the mirror insists on sticking to his thoughts like gum stuck to his shoe, giving him all sorts of unwanted sensations.

When Keith finally gets out of the bathroom, he walks straight to his bed and lies down on it without a word. Lance scratches his jaw. Does he really want to know…?

… Yeah, he does.

“So… how did it go?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

For all response, Keith turns his back to him and flips him off. Lance snorts.

“Alright, alright, I get it.”

He sighs and stretches on his bed too. But as much as it disturbs him to hear Keith’s voice coming out of his mouth, he still can’t stay quiet. There’s too much to discuss, too many fears plaguing him and only one person who can relate. He turns his head to his own body, glancing at his own back. At least it doesn’t look half bad from there, he thinks satisfied. He clears his throat before speaking.

“Hey. I don’t wanna jinx it, but… what if, uhm, they can’t fix us? Have you thought about it?” he asks. He sees Keith visibly shudder, hugging himself, lying on his side. His voice sounds fatigued.

“It won’t happen. They’ll find a way.”

“But if they can’t? We could end up like this forever. How will we tell our—”

“Lance.” Keith turns in the bed and faces him sideways. Lance sees him press his lips tightly before speaking again in a cold, resolute tone. “Allura brought back Shiro to his body with her own hands in the middle of nowhere. They will fix us. Don’t panic.”

Damn, he wishes he sounded that convincing in his own voice. It works like a charm, and Lance lets out a nervous laugh.

“Guess you’re right.”

Keith nods and they quietly stare at each other again. Lance wonders if Keith is also wishing this is all a bad dream, checking his body from afar. He taps his fingers on the mattress, nervous. Those eyes – his eyes— are so unnerving, he feels the urge to break the silence and change the mood. Trying to smile, he comments:

“Well then. I just want to be sure, if worst comes to worst, that you’ll take good care of that hot bod. You better treat it with love.”

He is conscious of his own weird choice of words, but to his surprise, Keith rolls his eyes and half-smirks.

“I could say the same. You better not slack off while you are in that body, or else.”

“Hey, I train a lot! You’d know if you trained with me.”

Keith opens and closes his mouth, averting his eyes. Lance feels he unexpectedly landed a hit. Maybe he’s on the right track? After all, he has been dropping hints at Keith for months about wanting to train with him, with no success whatsoever.

“Yeah man, we could train together if you wanted. I’ve got a sword, remember? And I need a partner, but you always—”

“I thought Allura had you covered,” interrupts Keith, now piercing him with his new blue eyes. “Don’t you have a partner already?”

A few seconds of silence pass.

“I— w-what? What do you mean?” asks Lance, genuinely surprised. If his ears aren’t tricking him, and because he knows himself well enough to notice, that voice sounds slightly bitter and he wants to know _why_.

“Nothing,” Keith deadpans, turning his back on him again. He doesn’t add anything, but the moment is gone, and Lance feels like it’s his fault, though it totally isn’t. He also feels compelled to explain himself, though he totally shouldn’t.

“Allura isn’t— I mean, I don’t know if you’re meaning it like that, but we’re not there yet…”

Lance is sure he hears a mumbled “ _yet”_ get lost in the air and he lifts his upper body, anxious.

“Hey, Keith, I’m serious, I—"

“Try to sleep. Maybe if we sleep it’ll go away on its own,” says Keith, tucking a hand under the hard pillow of the medbay bed and lying still without another word.

Lance watches his back for a while, feeling dejected. They were about to have a decent conversation and it had gone south for no valid reason. Why did Keith have to mention Allura? This had nothing to do with her. He just wanted to ask why Keith had been ignoring his veiled pleas to train together. Or talk. Or pretty much do anything, in fact.

Confirmed then, thinks Lance, turning his back on Keith too. Their leader had been actively avoiding him since he came back. Not like they wouldn’t interact, but sure as hell it wasn’t even close to how they were communicating until Keith left with the Blades. Guilty, he remembers their episode stranded on space, feeling like a jerk. ‘ _Wh_ _y don’t you drift by yourself? Mr. Lone Wolf…’._ If Keith wasn’t already cold to him before that, he would think that was the reason and accept it, maybe even apologize. But there seems to be more to it. This started before, and he can’t put his finger on when or where.

It’s true he used to bug Keith a lot because he had that unique talent to get on his nerves just by breathing, but that never meant he was ill intended or that he couldn’t consider him a friend. By the time Keith had left, he trusted him and was happy to feel trusted too. Almost buddies. It took a while, but he just… had to get over their rivalry first. And the fact that Keith had forgotten his name. And face. And everything about his existence while he remembered vividly his. Seriously, who could blame him for being salty about it?

But, well, Keith had gone away, and his journey had been wacky. From being a space ninja agent to being stranded for two whole years with his mother on a space whale and coming back to an absolute mess… maybe more than just his physical appearance had changed, and he was having trouble accepting that. There was more to this new Keith than his bigger body and that mullet going out of control, apparently.

A silent giggle escapes from his mouth at that thought, and he is suddenly aware of his hair spreading on the pillow and under his cheek and tickling his jaw. How could Keith live like this? He seriously considers using this chance to get rid of that damn mullet and give this guy an overdue haircut to finally make him enter the current century.

A chill runs through his body and he frowns, confused. It takes him a while to understand why his body tenses at the idea of cutting Keith’s hair, until a murmur comes from that hateful corner of his mind and punches him right in the gut.

Keith’s hair. He could freely touch Keith’s hair now and experience, only out of pure and natural curiosity of course, how it feels. For science, even. Like, maybe it feels nice and that’s why the owner doesn’t want to let it go…?

Slowly, he moves his hand until his fingers brush the tips of his hair. Too conscious of his breathing, he pinches a dark lock between his thumb and index and rubs it.

It’s soft. Softer than it looks, and softer than he imagined. Another discovery he should file and forget, but instead goes directly to the pit of his stomach, making him shudder.

Old memories he had already banished from his brain come back. Memories of him standing behind this raven-haired kid on his first day at the Garrison and feeling unable to look away, of him watching through binoculars that mane flying in a crazy race to get to a fallen ship and jumping to follow him before even thinking. An uncomfortable thrill, at the recollection of old feelings he had sworn to have buried long ago.

He isn’t supposed to feel like this. He isn’t supposed to _imagine_ how it feels. And, most importantly, he isn’t supposed to fight a sudden urge to dip his fingers on his own scalp and brush that hair for a better appreciation of it, like some obsessed weirdo.

Yeah, that’s his cue, he’s out. He hides his hands under his body, presses his eyelids and prays to all gods to allow him to sleep, and that when he wakes up in the morning, he is back to his own body and, hopefully, without a single memory of the events, discoveries, and remembrances of this cursed day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be less swearing in the future, just in case you are bothered by it.  
> If anyone is following my other fic, don't worry, I'm working on it right now too! One can only slack off so much during post-season depression, right? 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://www.silverineontherun.tumblr.com)! See ya on wednesday with Keith's POV, and please, your kudos and any comment you may leave will be truly cherished! Thanks for reading, xoxo <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Infinite thanks to all of you for the kudos and sweet comments, that's all I've been feeding myself of these days lol. Again, thanks to [Kunfetti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/pseuds/Kunfetti) for her help <3\. This time we'll see a bit of Keith's POV, hope you enjoy!

Keith stays still in the same position for what feels like hours, listening, until the breathing coming from the other bed is slower and deeper. At the first sign of movement, he dares to turn his head back just a bit to peek. There it is, his own body, sprawled on the mattress in what looks like uneasy sleep, eyelids moving, brows pinched and slacking jaw.

Maybe because he spent two years of his life watching memories and random images featuring himself at different stages of his life, or because he witnessed how Shiro’s conscience was nested inside the Black Lion, but his mind is quickly accepting this nightmarish situation as ‘real’, although still far from ‘acceptable’. While this body swap issue is wrong on so many levels, it’s not the possibility of trading brains– or whatever happened to them— what bothers him the most. No, thinks Keith, sitting on his bed, what  _truly_  disturbs him is how easily he can recognize Lance’s motions under his own skin. How he seems to have appropriated it in record time, to the point he can distinguish him even in his sleep.

Feeling a shiver that may not be only due to horror, his eyes linger on his own body until he notices a doctor observing them from outside the window. She points at the screen in the wall, where letters appear.

 _Any noise in the room bothering you?_  Keith shakes his head. He had almost forgotten they were still being monitored.

 _Are you feeling well?_  Keith raises a thumb.

_Please try to sleep too. If we have news we will let you know._

The black paladin shrugs and lies on the bed again, but doesn’t even try to close his eyes, he knows for a fact that sleep will evade him this night.

It’s a mystery to him how Lance can fall asleep under these circumstances. Was he already that comfortable inside— no,  _occupying_  his body? He feels his cheeks hot and sighs while cursing his bad luck. Of all people, of all moments, it had to be  _him_ and  _now_ , just when he wanted to stay as far as possible from his fellow paladin. How he manages to end in the exact opposite of “away” from Lance is just… a cruel irony.

Anxiety is making his limbs hurt. He moves his numb legs and is painfully aware of the fabric of his pants grazing his skin. Lance’s skin.

Now  _his_  skin.  _His_  legs.

The burn in his stomach at this thought is unbearable, and he turns over in the bed, flexing said legs, aware of their infuriating long length. He noticed before, walking around while feeling his blood rising to his head at the discovery, trying hard not to stumble, all sense of space wrecked.

He had naively believed that the worst part of this experience would be losing his physical prowess while fearing for a sudden attack, until he had to walk inside the bathroom and take care of more mundane things, which proved to be the actual  _worst_.

What a torture! Trying hard not to look. Trying hard not to touch. Trying hard not to memorize anything about this person who could always shake him up. To forget the terrifying fact that he had total control over this new body, he distracted himself by cursing the moment when he grabbed Lance’s shoulder to get him out of the way down there, in front of the Altean, and got into this mess. Still, if he didn’t, who knows what could have happened to this dumbass who was probably too busy drooling over  _someone_  in the room to react on time.

And then, just when he was thinking about that, the damn mirror in the bathroom almost gave him a heart attack, the fake illusion of Lance walking on him scaring him to the point that, to wash his hands, he simply crouched in front of the sink, hiding his head and only rising his hands. HE CROUCHED.

Like hell he was gonna tell Lance that when he asked how it went. Who even asks that, for  _quiznak’s_ sake?

He glares at the sleeping boy. Of course Lance would ask. Of course Lance is going to make a hundred uncomfortable comments that will put him through the wringer during the entire time they stay switched. And, of course, he’s going to take the bait every single time and make a fool of himself, exposing his weakness and misery just like he did a while ago, with that comment about Allura that he let slip.

Keith groans, slapping his face in frustration, with enough strength to sting. Making a mental note to stop unconsciously attempting against his own integrity while borrowing this body, he slowly raises the offender hand in front of his eyes and examines it.

It’s a manly hand, but still objectively pretty. Dark, smooth skin. Long and slender fingers with short, clean nails. A soft palm, with many lines, the pad of his index the only part notoriously calloused. For the trigger, probably.

Heh, so much for ‘training a lot’, thinks Keith, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up as he traces the immaculate skin with a finger from his opposite hand, marveling at its texture.

Then he imagines that hand entangled with another pretty, feminine one and the smile disappears.

He closes the hand into a fist and rests it over the bridge of his nose, sighing, feeling how the already usual pressure creeps in his chest, even outside his own body. There’s no escape to it. And he shouldn’t be doing this to himself, feeding his mind with unnecessary details that are not for him to discover.

Still, against his will, the smile tries to come back at the sensation under his fist. That’s a pointy nose he has there. He’d know, that profile was engraved in his memory since that time he had to carry Lance to the healing pod, hurt and unconscious. It came as a surprise, this noisy boy who always managed to get a reaction from him suddenly defenseless in his arms, resting his cheek on his shoulder like a sleeping cat, making his insides churn in a mix of concern and something else. Something new, unnamed and terrifying. The moment when everything changed for him.

If only he could forget it, just like Lance did.

He wouldn’t have been half as troubled during their entire crazy adventure if he could just forget all the times that pointy profile had thrown him out of balance in almost a daily basis. Like that crooked smile Lance showed him when he turned around before leaving his room, after his surprise visit. When they discussed the “one paladin too many” issue, and suddenly all decisions were easier to make, if not any less painful.

Or all the times his memory would betray him, showing snippets of him at the Quantum Abyss, simple and innocent images of all these times where he mimicked him, antagonized him, lost in how to react before him, like a permanent reminder that he wasn’t free from his fuzzy feelings yet, no matter how much he ran away from them, how much he avoided naming them, waiting for them to die.

Lance was a tornado. He hit him with no warning, sliding into his life with no permission, since the day they met, insisting on that dumb rivalry, provoking him, making him talk, get mad,  _feel_. How long had it been since he had felt things about people asides from Shiro, since he even  _cared_? Long enough to have forgotten.

And then, during his darkest hour there he was, supporting him, keeping his chaotic mind under control and his impulses on track, making him feel like someone had his back. A true friend, a companion, a brother in arms. But never meant to be more than that, no matter how much his heart insisted on filling itself with something similar to a twisted longing he tried to kill every time, because Lance was in another plane, one he could never reach. He might as well secure his place there, though, and that’s what he did when the chance and the moment overlapped. He left, and his journey took him away from him, but closer to himself.

Because of that, he thought his eventual come back would be peaceful. The anguish transformed into certainty, the loneliness into love. His mother, Kosmo and the Quantum Abyss gave him the capacity of accepting these things for the first time in his life, and the will to fight for them. He thought his heart would finally be at peace, that he could come back with a new attitude and finally leave behind his confusion, until he was put to test… and immediately failed.

After his scarring battle against Shiro, hurt and tired, he called the Castleship only to find Allura in Lance’s arms, his nose almost buried on her shoulder, both alone in the darkness of the bridge, and his world turned upside down. Over his fear, over his exhaustion, the image still managed to sting. Apparently, while he risked his skin for his brother, they were having a blast. He could tell, Lance was smiling so wide when he turned to speak to him, with that damn shine in his eyes.

And the unnamed feeling suddenly had a name but also was shot on sight.

He was so shocked at it that the poisonous pain running through his veins took a long while to truly settle. The immediate effect was numbness. A battle to fight. A team to lead. He remained functional and they won.

But the long-lasting effect? Bitterness, and a new wall around his heart, sturdier than the last.

Certainly, a lot of it wore off after everything they experienced during the journey back home as a team. Hunk did a lot for him, and the team was reaching a new level of understanding, one that pierced through his own doubts and allowed them to work and live together like a family. But still… he kept the wall up for Lance. Avoid and elude. What you can’t see can’t hurt you, after all.

No matter how curious and then pissed off the boy would be at his new, not so subtle attitude, for Keith it was just self-care. He wouldn’t doubt. He wouldn’t fall into the trap of their old dynamics again. He wasn’t going to be hurt, he was past that already, and since Lance was a teammate and also his second in command, he would keep a level-headed stance at all times. Like, choosing him to leave Bob’s game? Pure strategy, because Lance was sucking at the game. His dry answer had nothing to do with his breath hitching at hearing Lance’s choice at all, either. The wild beats of his heart when their connection reached its peak as they formed Voltron’s wings? That was just the adrenaline pumping. That paralyzing dread he felt when Lance’s comm went off during their last battle and they feared the worst? Calling his name until his voice was raspy? Something he’d do for any of his friends. Everything was under control.

_Everything._

Until that evening last week when he was outside sending Krolia and Kolivan off again, sad to say goodbye to them one more time, and he saw Lance and Allura casually strolling around the big court at sunset, arm in arm. Romantic and cheesy, very Lance McClain-ny.

… And damn it, he was supposed to be over this.

Yet there he was, feeling like someone had kicked him right in the sternum. And now, as if it couldn’t get worse enough, he occupies the body that pushed him into this madness, to begin with. Gorgeous skin, radiant smile and beautiful eyes, all within his reach... but in the most creepy, literal sense.

Whoever managed the events of his life had the most rotten sense of humor ever. If such an entity existed, Keith thinks, tossing and turning in his bed again in a sour mood, it had to be a dude like that Bob prick, probably.

“Can’t sleep?”

Keith jolts and hears a snicker. Lance is awake and lying on his side again, laughing at his reaction with droopy eyes.

“Something on your mind, chief?” he adds in a playful tone.

“I thought you were sleeping,” says Keith, panicking. Since how long was Lance observing him?

“I think I’ve been just dozing off, not sure,” answers Lance, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly. He suddenly moves away his hand, though, as if he had scorched it, tucking it under his body. “Uh, s-so… what time is it?”

“Don’t know. Past midnight, maybe?”

“Oh man…” Lance yawns and rubs his left eye. Keith thinks he could never achieve that unintended level of cuteness and it’s terrifying watching his body do  _that._  “This is going to be a long-ass night.”

“Yeah,” agrees Keith. He is tired but, most of all, he is nervous, worse now that Lance is awake. There is nothing he wishes more right now than being knocked out and not know about himself until he’s back to normal. Maybe if Kosmo was with him, he could calm down at least a bit and—

Oh shit.

_Kosmo._

How could he forget? Keith sits bolt upright in the bed again, while a wave of sadness overflows him when he thinks of his poor wolf alone in the room, waiting for him to come back. How could he explain to him what happened? How would Kosmo react if he showed up in Lance’s body? Would he even accept him?

At his sudden movement, Lance propels his body up, supporting it on his elbow to look at Keith.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks.

“I…” Keith doubts. Is this dumb?

... Yeah, it probably is.

“Nothing.”

“C’mon Keith, don’t give me that. We’re gonna be stuck here for a while, at least talk to me?”

Lance’s eyes are eager and sincere, and Keith wonders if he has ever made that face to anyone. Probably not. If he did, no one would have called him ‘emo’ ever.

“Seriously, what’s on your mind?” insists Lance.

Well, there’s a lot on his mind and most of it is confidential. Still, subtly hiding his face, Keith mumbles:

“You’re gonna mock me.”

“What? No, c’mon, when have I ever mocked you?”

Keith’s unimpressed glare makes Lance snort.

“Alright, alright, maaaaybe I have once or twice, whatever. I won’t this time, so c’mon, tell me!” Lance sounds overly interested, and Keith cringes a bit at the high pitch he’s reaching with his voice. Watching that childish eagerness in his own eyes is embarrassing, but also eerily convincing. He hides his face even more.

“I was— I was just thinking about Kosmo. I can’t sleep knowing he’s waiting for me and no one has told him I’m here, I forgot to ask the guys and I don’t think anyone will remember. He’s never slept without me or my mom, and she’s gone so…” Keith is practically burrowing his head between his shoulders by now. In a low voice, he mumbles: “And also, I kinda… miss him?”

He raises his eyes and squints defensively, expecting to hear a burst of laughter and taunting in traditional Lance style, but instead, he catches a glimpse of his own face quickly flushing before Lance tilts his head down and hides it between his hands. Keith can only see his lips moving to croak:

“Dude, that’s— that’s  _so_   _cute_?”

Keith freezes.

“Wha— how is that cute? I’m just—”

“No, really, the way you care about Kosmo… you’re a good master. That’s really, really cute.” Lance looks at him, still a bit red, but smiling in such an honest way that it resounds in Keith’s bones. How Lance can pull such a look with his dead facial muscles is something that the Garrison should probably study.

“I’m not cute,” he deadpans, feeling progressively dumber the more he repeats that cursed word. Lance’s heart thumps heavily in his chest, the realization of this fact making him blush even more.

“Oh, but you’re the cutest right now!” assures Lance, and Keith feels his heart now dangerously trying to leap out of its place. However, the red paladin makes finger guns at him. “Don’t forget you’re Loverboy Lance right now! Of course you’re cute. Lucky you!”

Keith turns to flop face first on his pillow with a groan. What’s worse, watching yourself doing something as embarrassing as finger guns or blushing like an idiot because of it?

“Shut up,” he groans, his voice muffled by the pillow. He can hear Lance laughing heartily in his own voice. He tries to remember the last time he made that kind of sound and has no idea. Seriously, he needs this to end, before Lance transforms his body into a flirty, giggling mess.

“It’s okay, buddy, Kosmo is cuddly, I would miss him too.”

“I said shut up!” growls Keith, raising his head a bit to breathe and be heard.

“Alright, fine! But don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be okay. It’s just one night, bet he’s napping.”

Keith pauses and then almost imperceptibly nods into the pillow. He hears how Lance clears his throat.

“Hey, by the way… There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you since we were on our way back,” he declares. Keith tenses and slowly raises his head to look at him. Lance is scooting on his bed to bend his elbow and support his head on his palm as if he was getting ready for a long conversation.

Was this the moment when he would ask why he’s been so unfriendly? Would Lance try to get an answer from him? Keith realizes now, in sudden panic, that he never even thought of an excuse. The other boy hums and he shuts his eyes, bracing for what’s coming.

“So… Why did you think Kosmo would tell you his name by himself? He’s, uh… a wolf. A cosmic wolf, sure, but still… What the heck, man?”

Keith’s head flops a second time in the pillow. There’s a pause during which he might as well be dead.

“Uhm, Keith?” he hears Lance call him.

“Leave me alone,” Keith grumbles, feeling the last remains of his energy leaving his body. Maybe even his soul with them.

“No way, I’m serious!” insists Lance, in a playful tone. “I need to know, what did you expect? Did you, like, expect him to tell you ‘hello master, my name is Thunderstorm Darkness’ or...?”

“What are you talking about?” asks Keith, still lying on his belly, turning his head towards Lance, who is now covering his mouth with his hand and snorting.

“Ohh man, that sounds just like you!”

“Like hell it does!” Keith feels his cheeks hot. Of course it sounds like him, it’s his voice, but he would NEVER have named Kosmo something like that.

This doesn’t stop Lance from having a blast making use of his voice.

“Hello, I’m Keith and this is my wolf, Black Void Rebellion… the Third— Oh god!” Lance cackles at his own words, holding his stomach with one hand and slapping the mattress with the other while he lays on his back now, making the bed rattle with his spasms.

“Shut it already, jerk,” mumbles Keith. Even in all his anger, the contagious laughter coming from his own body, all dusted in Lance’s humor, is producing him the tingly sensation that announces an upcoming chuckle, but he fights it.  

“Oh god, I can’t— wait, let’s try another one.” Lance clears his throat again and punching the air with both hands, he says:

“On me, paladins… Form Voltron!”

Keith raises a brow at Lance, who is now looking at him, a bit impressed at his own imitation.

“Woah, I sound just like you.”

“No shit, genius.”

“No, but like…  _just_ like you.” Lance sits on the bed again, making a pause. His black hair is tousled after moving around so much, making him look like a mischievous kid. Then he smiles maliciously. Pointing at Keith, he shouts:

“Shut up and trust me!”

“Wha—” Keith is perplexed, while Lance furrows his eyebrows and puts his hands on his waist, making a grumpy face.

“I don’t have time for this, Lance!”

“Are you serious?”

“You are NO KING!” declares Lance in a dramatic voice. He grabs his pillow and chokeholds it. “And the dude was like eeeek! Remember?”

“Stop that already!” Keith is torn between hiding under the sheets or jumping to smack Lance at this point, red to his ears.

“He can be dangerous! Drop your weapon!” Lance points at the floor as if brandishing a sword and laughs loudly. “Oh man, poor Klaizap was so small, I’ll never get over it…”

“I SAID IT ALREADY, HE WAS THEIR BRAVEST WARRIOR I JUST—”

"We had a bonding moment! I craaaaadled you in my arms!"

That is the last straw. Trying not to think on why that one hurts so much, Keith sits in the bed violently and decides that two can play this game. Putting the dumbest voice on purpose, he says:

“Oh yeah? Well I’m not a goofball! I’m like, the cool, ninja, sharpshooter?”

“What?!” Lance’s wide smile starts to fade. “Hey, I don’t speak like that!”

“I'll stick YOU in a wormhole! Shut your  _quiznak_! Meh meh meh!”

“No, no! I tried to sound _like_  you, you’re just being ridiculous now! How come you never understand the instructions?” complains Lance, frowning and pressing his lips, making Keith grin and keep it up.

“Hey, I’m Lance and I got myself tied to a tree by an alien girl. But I’m not dumb, I swear!”

“Okay that’s just petty of you, I’m kinda disappointed to be ho—”

"Hey, how do we know you're the real Keith and not his  _bigger… cooler… griiiizzled_  older brother?”

At this one, Lance closes his mouth, blushing notoriously, and throws his pillow at him. Keith catches it with one hand and crosses his arms around it, triumphant.

“I didn’t say it like that!” protests the red paladin, cheeks lit.

“Oh yeah? Well I got one more,” says Keith, way too into this. Putting his best shit-eating face, and pointing his nose up, he says in a contemptuous tone:

“I actually don’t hate you right now.”

The face Lance makes, opening his eyes wide and slightly separating his lips makes Keith feel like he could have crossed a line he ignored that existed. Instead of getting mad or laughing, Lance is now fidgeting.

“How do you remember all of these?” he asks.

“I… guess I have a good memory,” answers Keith, feeling his confidence waver.

“Yeah, no kiddin’. It’s been longer for you, isn’t it?” Lance sighs and, again, scratches the base of his neck, with his eyes down.

The shift in the atmosphere is evident, and Keith isn’t sure how to act now. He seems to always mess the mood when he tries anything remotely cordial and now regrets it. He’s never been good reading social cues, and that’s always been one of the many reasons why Lance and he would clash, even when he doesn’t intend to. But while he tries to find an answer, Lance suddenly speaks.

“You… uhm, you know I never hated you, right?”

Keith slowly meets his eyes. Surprisingly, his face looks closer to the usual now. Lance is serious and his stomach tenses.

“I, uh— I guess?”

At his stammering, Lance pinches his nose.

“Oh,  _quiznak_.”

“I mean, I just think I—”

“No, no, don’t. It’s not your fault, man.”

Lance sighs, and he bites cheek as if he was trying to find the right words and can’t. Keith notices he’s looking at him too eagerly and backs away a bit.

“To be honest, Keith, I always—”

“Paladins?”

A voice coming from the audio panel next to the window makes them turn their heads. The same doctor from before is there, talking to them.

“Sorry to bother. Sam and Princess Allura just called and told us they’ll continue tomorrow morning with their investigation. It would be good if you tried to rest too, they’ll probably come early to fill you in with the details.”

“Any news?” asks Keith.

“Sadly, no, but we don’t have a full report yet. They’ll probably inform us tomorrow morning. Please, be patient.”

“Oh… okay doc,” answers Lance, still a bit flustered. The doctor waves at them and goes back to work in a corner of the room.

Keith had almost forgotten they were being observed, realizing they were behaving like a pair of kids, as if to prove his point: Lance always manages to drag him into his games. Ashamed, he accommodates his body awkwardly on the bed, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Lance is doing the same. Their conversation had been interrupted, but he doesn’t have the slightest idea of where it was going, so he doesn’t know if he should bring it up or not. He resists the temptation of looking to his side, until Lance coughs.

“Uhm, Keith?”

“Yeah?” Keith replies, feeling the tension building up again in his body.

“You... uhm…” Lance is doubting, and this makes Keith turn his head slowly to stare at him, in silence.

Their eyes meet. Keith is aware of the intensity of his own eyes that now are fixed on him and vaguely wonders how Lance’s eyes look right now, if that familiar gaze is any different while he manipulates it. He honestly hates that idea. He likes the honesty of Lance’s eyes, and he knows he can’t convey something like that, because... he isn’t honest enough for it.

Lance breaks the eye contact and, swallowing, mutters:

“Uh… could you give me back my pillow?”

Keith lets out a trembling breath that sounds faintly like a laugh. He takes the pillow and throws it at him, who catches it and punches it a bit for his comfort. The boy settles his head on it, apparently struggling a bit getting his hair out of the way, given how his fingers seem to entangle on it when he pushes it back in short movements. It’s almost funny, thinks Keith, smirking against his will. After all, Lance always hated his hair.

Lance catches him grinning and makes a surprised face for a second. But then his lips stretch into a soft smile as he says:

“Goodnight, Keith.”

Ignoring his renewed heartthrobs, Keith simply answers:

“Goodnight, Lance.”

The boy hums and closes his eyes. Keith shifts on the bed, because he isn’t sure he can tolerate a night of insomnia looking at his own sleeping face, while he mulls over what just happened, over what they said and, especially, what they  _didn’t_  say.

_“You know I never hated you, right? I always—”_

Always  _what_?

Unable to read the situation and draw a conclusion, Keith just exhales, unsure on how to feel. He expected this to be a long night but, maybe because he feels absolutely depleted of energy after the events of the day, his old ability to be lights out as soon as he lies down comes through, and he doesn’t even know when drowsiness wins, falling deeply asleep.

Completely unaware of how the breathing from the other bed is still short and quick for a long, long while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must thank [Ivy](https://twitter.com/Loverboyklance) for the help with the iconic phrases! My memory sucks, but this real klance trooper saved me! <3
> 
> Again, kudos, comments and any form of feedback are most appreciated, remember they are my food lol. Thanks a lot for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who checked this chapter before the edit! Nothing substantial was changed. Enjoy!

“No offense, guys, but you look terrible,” says Hunk, carefully placing the breakfast tray in front of Lance, who simply yawns with little elegance.

“Hey big guy, I’d like to see you trying to catch some sleep while living in some other dude’s body,” he answers, scratching his disheveled head, this time carefully keeping his fingers from lingering there for too long.

He stares at Keith, who is still looking sleepy but clearly hungry, given the eager way in which he accepts the tray that Pidge is passing him, sitting on the bed cross-legged. He finally looks less stiff and awkward, which makes Lance smile. Keith raises his eyes for a second, and when he catches him staring, quickly turns back to his food.

He shouldn’t say it when it’s his own body doing that, but… that’s cute. And it’s getting alarming how ‘cute’ seems to be a recurring word Lance’s brain is using to refer to their Team Leader.

Keith worried about Kosmo? Cute. Keith worried about what he’d think about this? Very cute. Keith teasing him back, letting a bit of his good-natured humor raise from wherever he usually hides it?  _Next level cute_. Keith making use of his voice to mock him was surprisingly endearing and refreshing, making him feel again that rush of excitement he used to feel when they would engage in dumb arguments that, in all honesty, he always started. Well, _almost_ always.

If only that was the only thing keeping him awake, though.

Discovering that Keith thought all along that it came from a place of hate was… disturbing. For hours, Lance simply stared at the ceiling trying to decide how much of it is his fault, and how much he can blame on Keith’s paranoia. Sadly, the balance is tipping towards himself and his relentless teasing, the provocations and constant push of a rivalry that, he knows well, Keith never even acknowledged. So… why did he insist so much on it? That was the real riddle.

It felt like the answer was there and he just couldn’t grasp it. And at one point, after a few hours, the ideas started to mix and confuse. So, Keith is cute. He’d antagonize him to get his attention, but not because he’s cute, but because he is great. Like, great pilot, not great as a guy. Though he is, he’s brave, he’s always saving everyone’s ass and also exudes that loner vibe that makes one want to have his attention… maybe?

Perhaps Lance just wanted that all along, and Keith didn’t know what to do, didn’t understand that because he isn’t even aware that he is… uh, well… cute.

…Yikes.

Result: an entire night of sleepless contemplation that is clearly showing on his face. Lance yawns again and sighs, feeling his eyes stinging, making him blink lazily while he can’t still quite shake his terrible conclusions.

“Are you really ok Ke— I mean, Lance?” asks Hunk, seeing how he is frowning at his toast.

“Ah, yeah, yeah. Don’t worry,” answers Lance, chomping on his food. While chewing, his tongue grazes a sharp canine he hadn’t noticed until now. Automatically, his tongue sweeps through the upper row of his teeth.

Pointy. Unexpectedly pointy.

That’s… a dangerous mouth thinks Lance, and he is about to analyze the hazards of using it for, say,  _kissing someone_ , but the sole shadow of that idea poking out of the corner of his brain makes his toast take the wrong turn down and he chokes and coughs.

“Woah, Lance, pull yourself together,” says Hunk, raising his friend’s arms to help him breathe again.

“I’m so sorry for you, Keith. We’ll try to get you back in one piece, before Lance kills you,” promises Pidge, and Lance glares at them through his tears, still coughing. Keith is looking at him unimpressed.

“I hope so. Where are Allura and your dad?” he asks, resuming drinking his juice.

“Still studying the Altean. They said they’ll come with news soon.”

“And Shiro?” asks Keith. Lance has a new fit of coughs and Hunk pats his back while Keith closes his eyes raising his brows as if he was summoning all his patience. Pidge raises her voice to be heard over the noise.

“Oh, he said he’d come by as soon as an issue with the Atlas was resolved,” she explains. Then she smiles, smugly. “Well, we asked the docs to let us bring you breakfast to check on you and pry. So, how was your night?”

“Terrible,” deadpans Keith.

“Horrible,” Lance states at the same time while wiping his tears. Both boys squint at each other while Pidge and Hunk tilt their heads and shrug as if saying ‘guessed as much’.

“Man, honestly? I can’t believe it yet,” confesses Hunk, looking from one to the other, “I mean, you could totally be pranking us which… I guess you, uh, you aren’t… right?”

Keith shoots him a furious look, while Lance slaps his arm.

“C’mon, man! You think I’d joke with something like this?!”

“Ouch, okay, fine! That’s you, Lance. Rude…” Hunk rubs his arm, pouting. “I just had to be sure! It’s just, this is easily one of the weirdest things that have happened to us and that’s saying something! After all we’ve seen... And it happened on Earth, isn’t that ironic? To think we were for so long on space aboard an alien Castle and traveled through wormholes fighting these imperialists hairy dudes and their witches and literally anything could happen, but then this happens when we get home? Isn’t it—”

He stops before Keith and Lance’s scowls. “Aaaand I’m rambling. I’m, uh, I’m shutting up now…”

“Thanks, Hunk. Geez… you think we didn’t notice? Irony doesn’t even cut it,” grumbles Lance, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s fascinating, though,” Pidge looks ready to take notes on her screen, enthusiasm shining through her eyes, “I was wondering, did you retain all your memories with you?”

“I think so?” Lance replies, looking curious at Keith. He hadn’t really taken a moment to analyze his brain and see if everything was there, but given his last night of ruminations full of old, dusty memories, he was probably carrying his entire life with him.

“Have you tried checking if there’s something from the other remaining on your brains?” asks Pidge.

“What?! No! At least not me,” Lance is scandalized, but given Keith’s expression, he hasn’t either. Still, he bares his teeth at his own body. “And you better not have tried it, Mullet.”

“Why would I? As if there was anything of interest in there. Or anything at all,” answers Keith, with a crooked smirk.

“Hey!"

“What about your skills, did they go with you or are they totally dependent on your bodies?” Pidge’s questions seem to never end. Lance makes a dismissive movement with his hand.

“We haven’t tried! I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re in quarantine?” he says, fed up. “If you have time to make all these questions, why don’t you go help Allura and the doctors to bring us back?”

“Hey, that sounds just like Keith, actually,” says Pidge.

“HELL NO.” By now Lance is already fuming. The green paladin snickers.

“I’m just trying to understand what’s happening! This is incredible, though. I bet the doctors are having a field day with you two,” she says, almost bouncing on her spot.

“Oh wow, great to know that,” Lance fumbles in a low voice.

“See, when you do that it sounds a tiny bit like Keith too,” points Hunk.

“No, it doesn’t,” intervenes Keith, sighing. He leaves the tray by his side, having finished eating. “How are things outside? Has anyone noticed something?”

“Nope, but I’m sure people will make questions if we keep rescheduling Voltron’s appearances,” answers Pidge.

“Yesterday we were supposed to escort the MFE guys in the satellite rearrangement and had to cancel, and Allura and Shiro already changed today’s planning too,” adds Hunk.

Keith scratches his temple, impatient, muttering a curse.

“Hey, take it easy, they’ll survive. But!” Hunk stands up from the place where he is sitting on Lance’s bed, “we’ll have to work hard today so no one notices that Black and Red are out of commission. Sorry guys, but we gotta go.”

“Thanks, guys. I hope we can go soon too,” says Lance, giving his tray back to his friend, who in turn pats his back, encouraging.

“Wait.”

Keith uncrosses his legs and lets them hang from his bed to be right in front of the yellow paladin. “Hunk, can I ask for a favor?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I need someone to feed Kosmo. He must be in my room, alone. Could you take some food to him before he raids the kitchen? And, uhm…” Keith looks suddenly insecure, and his fellow paladin stares at him with curiosity. He clears his throat. “Well, could you explain to him where I am? Just, uh— Just that I’m in the medbay but I’ll be back… soon?”

Hunk raises one eyebrow and Lance sees the devilish grin forming on Pidge’s face, as well as the soft pink that’s raising to Keith’s – his— face.

He  _shouldn’t_  call it adorable… therefore he won't, concludes Lance, looking to the side and covering his mouth.

“Uh, explain? Do you think Kosmo will listen to me?” asks Hunk, doubting.

“Yeah,” answers Keith, plainly. Hunk hums.

“I dunno, man. I mean, don’t misunderstand, I love Kosmo too, but… not gonna lie, if he’s locked in your room all alone and hungry, I’m a tiiiiny bit scared of err, striking conversation with him… you really think he’ll believe me?”

Keith sighs, irritated, but Pidge steps forward.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it. Anything meaty is ok, right?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” says Keith, smiling at her in relief. Pidge winks back.

“Do I tell him you miss him a lot too?”

“No,” grunts Keith, pressing his lips, but now Lance can’t help giggling, his hand still covering his mouth. The others look at him.

“Please warn us before making Keith giggle. It’s kinda scarring,” says Pidge.

“Aren’t you two leaving?” growls Keith, crossing his arms in his usual way.

Something in the familiarity of that motion makes Lance feel warm all over, accenting the smile he seems to be unable to control. He is still laughing when the guys say goodbye and leave the room, and Keith extends one of his new long legs to softly kick him in the knee.

“Stop it, jerk,” he demands. Lance uncovers his mouth to show his wide smile.

“Are you feeling better now that they’ll take care of Kosmo?” he asks.

“I guess,” mumbles Keith, looking down. His expression is softer, though, and his cheeks still show a faint shade of pink. His legs are dangling from the bed and his hands clutch the edge of it. Lance notices he’s doing that gesture of raising slightly his shoulders that he always interpreted as fierce self-defense but, maybe because he’s looking at his own body doing it now, this time it just exudes… shyness.

Maybe it  _always_  was shyness. And it’s  _cute_. It’s really cute, and Lance feels the weird tingly feeling back, a wave of something violent that makes him leap out of his bed and look at Keith with wide open eyes.

“What?” Keith looks up at him, confused.

“Bathroom,” spouts Lance, hurrying to the door.

“Wait— hey!”

Lance ignores him and enters the small bathroom and when the door closes, he just stands there, trying to calm down while frowning.

Even if he’s outside his body, he shouldn’t be thinking things like “cute” regarding himself. There’s a limit to how narcissistic one can be.  But the – confusing, terrifying and annoying – point is, it’s not that  _he’s_  the cute one. It’s the occupant inside his body blushing, fidgeting and stuttering, it’s the will moving his limbs right now, the very… essence of Keith what is cute. He carried his gestures and his brass words with him, and Lance simply can’t deal with that.

His eyes lock on the mirror, right in front of him. Letting out a distressed exhalation, he walks the few steps until he reaches the sink and, again, his reflection is burning his insides.

That’s Keith. Because of his eternal night of anguish, he’s honestly looking like crap: pale, dry skin, with bloodshot eyes and the shadow of dark circles even more pronounced than yesterday around his eyes. But still, that raw appearance is breathtaking, in two senses: intimidating and handsome.

He shakes his head, defeated. Well, he thinks he could look even better. The superficial corner of his mind says that a shower and one simple skin care routine would help a lot. In fact, he’d kill for a shower and a change of clothes, but under the current circumstances, it’s… well, impossible.

However, if they really had to stay like this for any more days, the situation would be unavoidable, because no matter how exceptional and scientifically fascinating is this whole Altean swap, there wasn’t a chance in this life that they’d caught him looking nasty while on Earth. They couldn’t deny him the human right to take a shower.

The sole idea is giving him chills, though. He peers at his body and disarranged clothes in his reflection, thinking of what's beneath them, feeling a wave of heat rising to his cheeks. It’s not like he isn’t curious. In fact, he’s very, very curious, but doing something like that would be crossing some boundaries. All of them, probably. Also, it would give Keith permission to do the same and that… geez, letting Keith lay a finger on his body is a bit…

He slaps his hot face with his two hands.  _Time to get it together, McClain._

Blowing air nervously, he turns on the faucet and washes his face. He raises his bangs and they stay up, making him laugh and blush again like a fool at the soft sounds coming from his chest. Swallowing and deciding to not be distracted by this new giggling Keith anymore, he wets his hair, rubs his eyes and his hand scrubs the back of his head and his nape.

That spot probably never sees the light of the sun with that unacceptable bunch of hair covering it and that's why Lance scrubs it carefully, but in the process, he can’t help but admire its surprising softness. His fingers make a halt, resting on the warm skin and a new rebellious thought escapes the cage of increasing forbidden ideas.

_Does anyone else know?_

Being the only one is a thrilling thought, for unknown reasons.

He clenches his hands in fists and hits the sink lightly, looking at the whirls of water going down the drain.

_Get-it-together._

He steps away from the sink and occupies his brain in tolerating the rest of his business there, even if it is to distract himself with another source of stress, but inevitably after that, he’s back to wash his hands, wishing from the core of his heart that they fix them soon.

The personnel was kind enough to bring them towels and toothbrushes at least, but when he’s uncorking the lid of the toothpaste, he stops in the middle of it. His brows raise at a flashing memory.

Remembering his discovery from when he was eating, he slowly stares at his reflection again and, doubting for a second, flashes his teeth to examine them. He raises his left hand and his index is suspended in mid-air for a brief moment of reconsideration until he dismisses it and just touches the tip of his canines. They don’t look  _that_  different but sure feel like that. As if they could cut through anything…

With a pressure in his stomach, he remembers the thought that made him choke before. Looking back at the door as if he was about to commit a crime, he stands on his toes to get even closer to the mirror and look at his mouth in detail, stretching a bit his lower lip with a finger and touching the pointy ends of his teeth with his tongue. That is already weird enough on itself and he knows it, but then he makes a fatal mistake: he looks up and meets his own eyes in the mirror.

And he freezes, his intruder hand slowly descending from his lips in awe.

He’s never been this close to Keith. His irises are a clear shade of violet from this close and Lance’s heart simply stops beating the seconds he looks into them marveling at their strange color, while his breathing fogs the mirror. And then, instinctively, without even thinking, his eyes drop to his lips in a weird way.

A suggestive one.

Lance turns around violently, his heart pumping again and his breathing erratic, one hand going to his chest and then immediately to his mouth, dragging it to his jaw in absolute panic.

What was he gonna do? _Kiss himself there?_

“Idiot.” Lance walks one step forward and another back. “Idiot…” he repeats, raising his two hands to rub his face in distress.

He turns to the mirror slowly, glaring at it with resentment.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says.

Not even he is sure if that is directed towards the innocent mirror or his own reflection there, but he grabs the toothbrush and finishes his routine in record time, deciding he has taken long enough, and if Keith knocked on the door, he probably wouldn’t even blame him. He kinda deserves it.

  

* * *

 

The doctors keep conducting tests, asking questions, coming and going during all morning and part of the afternoon, but Allura, Shiro and Sam still haven’t visited them.

Lance is somehow happy, though. During their stay, he and Keith have been together at all times and, even though watching each other from another perspective is still the creepiest thing that has happened to them, they’ve managed to remain calm and, over all… talk.

Lance is surprised at how much he missed talking to Keith, even if every conversation starts with a certain resistance from the black paladin, who speaks reluctantly until he is driven by Lance to answer in more than monosyllables, and whenever Lance gets to make him roll his eyes or snort, it’s like a little victory that makes his chest faintly flutter.

It’s like a challenge, one he is enjoying a bit too much, maybe, but Lance notices during these hours that he can’t help smiling. Given their constant interruptions, though, he hasn’t really analyzed  _why_.

And maybe it’s for the best, says the whisper in that dark corner of his mind. He shuts it swiftly this time, he’s got more important things to pay attention to right now. Like the grid in the screen in front of him.

“Do you think they actually found a way to fix us and that’s why they’re taking so long?” asks Lance, sitting under a weird scanner, carefully tracing an ‘X’ in the center of the grid.

“They better have. Or else, they should at least have brought news by now… I win,” says Keith, also under a scanner, putting a circle and crossing three with a line.

“Awww, c’mon! … Three out of five?” proposes Lance, frustrated.

“You already said two out of three. Twice,” Keith reminds him. Still, Lance can see the shadow of a proud smile on his lips. The fire in his veins reactivates, just like the old times, and he can’t even question himself why every time Keith gifts him with something nice like a smile he feels the need to provoke him when he’s already taunting him.

“Yeah, but I didn’t count with you cheating in a simple tic tac toe game… where’s your honor, Keith?”

“I’m not cheating, you just suck. Besides, we’re doing this just for the test,” argues Keith, watching the doctors observing the screens on the other side of the window.

“And because being here is boring,” points Lance. He bounces his legs and sighs. “I hate hospitals. We had enough with that month we were here, I just wanna get out … they should let us go.”

“I’m not sure I want you roaming around the Garrison in my body,” says Keith, drawing another grid.

“Hey, I could say the same! But they should at least let us go to our Lions, don’t you think?” pouts Lance.

“Yeah, that’s true,” concedes Keith. His eyes also look at the doctors and under the afternoon light that enters through the sealed window, Lance sees his serious face illuminated by a flash of sunlight. He looks at his own features wondering… could Keith be having the same problems looking at his reflection? Could he ask without giving away his own uh... ‘situation’?

“We could still try that thing, though. Have you?” asks Keith, and Lance blinks to wake up from his trance, confused.

“Uh, the what?”

“Our remote connection. Have you tried feeling Red?”

“Oh!” Lance opens his mouth in awe. How come he didn’t think of that? “You’re right! Should we try?”

“Not now. We could alter the results, who knows,” says Keith, pointing at the scanner.

“Hm… I hate to say it, but you’re right," Lance admits, smirking. Keith shoots him a condescending look and Lance’s features look suddenly so powerful and self-assured they strike him as borderline... flirty?

"I usually am.”

Lance hopes the pinch in his stomach isn’t also altering the result. Still, he manages to grin back.

“Ohhh, aren’t we cocky today—”

He interrupts himself when they both see that Allura and Sam Holt are entering the medbay at that moment and speaking to the doctors. The paladins perk up at their presence, but Lance immediately notices, even from afar, that Allura’s face is grim.

That can’t be good news, and he looks at Keith, who is frowning at them. Nervous, Lance sits straight in his seat, waiting for them to come.

The Princess and Mr. Holt enter their room and smile while greeting them.

“Sorry for coming so late, boys. We’ve been working since this morning down there,” apologizes Sam.

“It’s ok! How did it go?” asks Lance. He smiles nervously at Allura, who looks at him with worried eyes. To his dismay, she averts her eyes and presses her lips. Sam Holt clears his throat.

“Well… we’ve made some progress regarding the nature of the connection of the Altean and the machine. First, we established that the link is indeed made through pure quintessence. We have studied the patterns of its energy waves and… well, I don’t think you care about the details.” Sam interrupts himself with a compassionate smile, but it vanishes quickly, replaced by a doubtful grin.

Like a nervous tic, he fixes the sleeves of his officer jacket while speaking again.

“Well, boys. In short, we fear it could, uh… take a while to bring you back. Now, now, it’s not  _impossible_ ,” he says, extending his hands to appease them when Lance and Keith attempt to stand up from their seats, “but you see, from what we’ve discovered the problem is that, in theory, the connection only goes one way.”

“What does that mean?” asks Keith, fiercely.

“It means that we have to find a way to put your entire being in a quintessence vessel, and make it travel back to your bodies in one single attempt,” suddenly says Allura. Her arms are crossed and she’s biting her thumb like she does when she’s nervous.

“Princess Allura, please,” intervenes Sam, looking at her with fear.

“No, Sam, we must be honest with them. They deserve the truth.” Allura’s eyes travel from Keith to Lance and her face shows frustration. “The problem is, this is too risky. By all we’ve discovered, what happened to you two is an anomaly that shouldn’t have occurred. It wasn’t meant to be between two living creatures. There… there is no safe way to make the vessels travel at the same time from one body to the other and cross in the way. But if we don’t do it that way…”

“What?” presses Keith, clenching his fist.

“We could… we could  _lose_  you. Your very essences could be lost because we have no means to contain them. It’s not something you can transport.”

“But…” Lance is speechless. Is he hearing well? Are they suggesting they could be staying this way forever?

No way.

“Allura, if this happened it’s because it IS possible! We are the proof!” he exclaims.

“I know!” cries Allura, and Lance sees horrified that there are tears in the corner of her eyes, “I know, but the complexity of it could be even superior to my abilities. I don’t know— I am not confident about the level of my skills for something like this.”

A thud startles them. Keith hit the table by his side with his fist.

“We can’t stay like this,” he grunts. His voice is incredibly cold and Allura looks at him as if hearing Lance talk like that shook her. “There must be a way. Don’t come to tell us there’s no way when you’re still investigating.”

The look in Allura’s face, the tone Keith is using to make her feel bad with his own body and the whole situation is filling Lance with a blind rage.

“Hey, they said they’re doing their best! Don’t talk to her like that!” he growls.

“Well in that case, what’s the point on coming here and say it’s impossible?” Keith barks back. Lance is about to stand up to grab him by the collar, but Sam intervenes again.

“Paladins, please. We just came to ask you to be patient. We’re by no means giving up. We just might need a bit more time, that’s all.”

Lance and Keith look at each other with anger imprinted in each and every one of their features. Allura covers her face.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you lose hope. I just wanted to be honest, I—”

“Allura, it’s okay. You just wanted to be sincere about our chances. At least I’m grateful,” says Lance. “I don’t know about Keith, but I HATE being lied to.”

Keith opens his mouth to answer, but then shuts it and he just turns his head to the side, mad. However, his eyes follow Allura when she suddenly walks towards Lance and takes his hands.

The paladin feels the soft and warm hands of the Princess enveloping his, and he raises his eyes until they meet hers. Her beautiful face still leaves him breathless from this close, just like the first day, when she fell into his arms and changed his life.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I will do anything in my power to bring you back. No matter what, I’ll find a way to fix this.” She raises one of her hands and puts it on his cheek with so much tenderness that Lance feels his insides melting.

“I promise,” she adds, in a sweet but resolute voice.

It’s one of those moments when Lance is reminded of how truly out of this world is Allura. And it’s not only for her beauty, which is striking on itself. No, it’s also the purity of her eyes, the kind heart beating in her chest and guiding all her actions, the strength of those hands that are capable of creating life out of nowhere, but are still so soft and supportive… She’s the most perfect creature he has, and probably will ever have the privilege to meet, without a doubt. His feelings for her are justified, true to these facts.

But this is also one of those moments when he simply can’t understand the crazy beats of his heart pointing that something’s wrong, nor the reason why his eyes would be willing to move away from hers only to take a quick peek to his side, where another creature, one he doesn’t understand at all, is sitting. As if his presence shadowed the one of this godlike woman, one who’s sincere and straightforward, a soft cloudy mystery waiting to be uncovered, instead of a mess of darkness and thorns that will inevitably hurt anyone who dares to touch it, hiding something in the center of a dangerous labyrinth.

He’s looking at the sun, but his eyes still wander to the darkness, searching for something that maybe doesn’t even exist, and if it does, doesn’t want to be discovered. At least not by him.

Disturbed by this revelation, he forces himself to gaze back at Allura and make his best effort to show a sincere smile. He affectionately pats the hand over his cheek and squeezes with his thumb the other one.

“I know, Allura. I’d never doubt you.” He winks at her. “No pressure, though.”

Her wet eyes squint in a soft smile when she laughs briefly at this comment and lets go of Lance. Then she turns towards Keith. Lance sees the black paladin is currently looking away, with one hand over his upper lip, hiding his face from them.

“I’m sorry for worrying you like this, I felt overwhelmed and… I’m sorry. I will keep working to bring you two back. But please, be patient. That is all I ask. We shall discuss the Lions situation tomorrow when Hunk and Pidge are back. Is that all right with you, Keith?”

Keith sighs— a soft, tired exhalation— and nods. Allura nods back and, giving one last smile to Lance, she heads towards the door. Sam makes one last effort to briefly reassure them and says goodbye, following her. They stop to speak to the doctors, and the paladins are left alone.

Silence is crushing. Lance is still mad at Keith for being so mean to Allura, but the confusion in his mind is collapsing his train of thought, making him stay quiet for once.

 _Why_. Just why every time his mind and heart should be focused on the girl that is miraculously acknowledging his feelings, the most wonderful woman he will ever meet, his stupid eyes decide to look to the side, his stupid heart decides to beat frantically at someone else, his mind insists on showing him images of someone he doesn’t want to see. It happened now, it happened every insomnia night.  _Why._

To his surprise, it’s Keith who breaks the silence, startling him.

“This better not happen again.”

“What?” says Lance, lost and jittery. Too much happened and, apparently, it’s not over. Keith is taking off the wires from his temples, ready to get away from the scanner.

“Keith, stop, what are you doing?” asks Lance.

He doesn’t answer, standing up from his seat and watching how Sam and Allura are leaving with most of the doctors. No one seems to notice one of the paladins is wrecking the test.

“Keith?”

"I won’t stand around for another display like that.”

Keith’s voice is full of some dark emotion that makes his words drag in a way Lance doesn’t remember ever doing himself, sending an alerting chill through his spine.

“What are you even talking about,” Lance is also trying to get rid of the wires now. The black paladin makes a strange pause before he looks at Lance, who sees in his eyes a shadow of something heavy and scary. Maybe the same thing poisoning his voice.

Resentment? Rage? Or… something else?

Keith seems to struggle with words, but his face says a lot.

“If... we stay like this… I’ll never, EVER approve of you touching Allura while you’re in my body.”

“W-what?” Lance is frozen in his spot, all blood rushing to his feet. The ominous threat is making his mind go blank. Keith continues to ramble.

“I’m saying that you can’t lay a finger on her while using my body.” Keith closes his fists, looking at the floor. “No, I won’t stand for it. I won’t let it happen in front of me like this and just—”

“Dude, what the heck! I’m not— I wouldn’t!” Lance is stuttering out of shock, but the new expression in Keith’s face, pure disbelief and scorn, is making him shake it off and transform into a rush of lava going directly to his head. The black paladin sneers.

“You wouldn’t? I didn’t see you doubt there, letting her feel MY face.”

“Dude, what's your problem? Allura is our friend! It isn’t that deep!”

But Keith is now bitterly laughing, an awful sound that comes from Lance’s mouth and is making him feel sick at himself. The evil twin is back, and now he’s showing an ugly, ugly dark side.

“Yeah,  _friend_  alright… that’s very cute, Lance.”

Whatever that means, it's freezing his insides. Lance’s brain isn’t sure how to even interpret these words, but his body is already moving on its own. He stands right in front of Keith, entering his vital space, trying to see… something. Anything. The black paladin fixes his eyes on his, keeping a defiant look. They are inches away, but this time Lance just sees his own blue eyes, veiled by emotions he can’t fathom, absolutely incomprehensible, nothing like himself. Nothing like what he saw in the mirror, either. He feels suddenly robbed, his identity stolen and used against him in this unfair way.

Those eyes fuel the flammable mix of chaotic ideas inside Lance, driving his words and unearthing obscure, forgotten things that are slipping directly from that dark corner of his mind he always shuts. This time he can’t. In Keith’s trembling voice, he blurts:

“You know what, Keith? I don’t even care. You wanna be the boss, tell me who I can and can’t touch? Fine then. But if you’re gonna start putting rules on me, it’ll go both ways. You think I’ll let you do whatever you want?”

“Try me,” Keith hisses. His face looks made of stone, and at this war declaration, any hope that his words weren’t mean on purpose fades, making Lance scowl. This isn't like any of their usual petty arguments, and he feels his entire body tremble in frustration and anger.

“Oh, I will. So you can kiss goodbye any dumb crap you pretend to pull on us.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” growls the black paladin.

“I’m talking about any of your surprise stunts and disappearing acts. You’ll have to think twice before ditching us this time,” grumbles Lance.

“Ditching? What the—"

“I know you enough to know that if they can’t fix this, it will overwhelm you and you’ll try to run away! As always!”

Keith’s mouth opens, but Lance is relentless.

“Well, NOT HAPPENING. Not while you’re on my body. You wanna put some rules on me, boss me around? Well, same for you, _Leader_! You’re not leaving to go on your fancy adventures again if we stay like this!”

Keith looks livid. His fingers twitch and his face is flushing in an ugly way, far from the cute pink that dusted his tan skin before. This is pure rage, and Lance wonders, burning in his own anger too, where does it really come from. Which part of what he has just said is really pulling the strings of this man, who is now also stammering.

“You don’t even know why I — Just— shut up. I can’t stand hearing you talk with my voice anymore. Shut up!”

Lance gives one step back, feeling a twisted sense of victory that quickly fades, giving space to a ridiculous knot forming in his throat. He fights it, pressing his lips and controlling his face from showing too much, to mutter:

“You are the worst, Keith. Why did you have to ruin everything?”

“Enough. I heard enough.” Keith turns his back on him, clenching his fists and tilting his head back as if he was trying to calm himself or concentrate on something, but Lance is not done yet.

“You started it! You had to drag Allura into this when she did nothing wrong! Why?!”

Keith's knuckles are white already, and his voice sounds raw and menacing.

“Shut up, Lance, I don’t wanna hear you anymore... SHUT-UP.”

“No, tell me!" Lance grabs Keith's shoulder to make him turn to look at him again, in vain. "What is your problem? Why don't you just tell me what’s your—"

He is interrupted by a sudden spark that appears in the middle of the room. Lance and Keith look at it, astonished, when no other than Kosmo materializes over one of the beds.

The paladins just gaze at the wolf, who lazily stretches and looks back at them. His yellow eyes jump between the two men, and Lance is suddenly aware of what Keith has been trying to do.

And no. He won’t let this happen. Not this time, when he feels he is close to revealing why Keith behaves like this.

“Kosmo,” he calls. He smiles and extends a hand towards the wolf. “Kosmo, come buddy. It’s me, Keith.”

“What the hell are you doing Lance?! Kosmo, it’s me!” Keith walks towards the bed, but Lance stands in his way, spreading his arms.

“C’mon, don’t you recognize your master? C’mere buddy, c’m…WOAH!”

Kosmo growls at him and bares his teeth. Lance gives half a step back and Keith slaps his arm away when he steps forward instead. Without a single shadow of doubt or fear, he reaches his wolf’s pelt and caresses it. Kosmo smells him, noticing the strange change probably, but still gives in to the hands of his true master.

“That’s my boy. Now let’s get out of here.” Keith grabs Kosmo’s side and looks at Lance with something that can only be defined as resentment. “Take me away from this asshole.”

In the mere second that will take Kosmo to accomplish this order, Lance’s brain just jumps ahead and makes his mouth yell before even thinking.

“Stop running away from me for ONCE, damn it!”

The last thing Lance sees is his own piercing eyes fixed on him with a new, undecipherable expression on them. It lasts less than half a second: in a flash of blue and white, Keith is already gone.

Doctors are coming in, asking what happened, and Lance is barely aware of what he is answering. He sees them scramble to alert the few people who know their situation, he hears them order him to stay there, to remain calm, to sit down.

White noise and renewed rage are blinding him. He raises his hands to his face and scrubs it, disgusted, pissed off and feeling empty, all in one. It wasn’t that important. It didn’t have to be that big. But _he_ made it that way, and it’s disconcerting.

Dusk is setting again through the window. It's barely been one day and a fraction, but they already managed to blow this up with their inability to communicate. It's like a curse: no matter what, he and Keith can't seem to ever be on the same page. It's frustrating. And... somehow, it hurts.

Rage dies and an unnamed weight on his chest replaces it. He slowly looks at his hands, his legs, the black strands of hair framing his face and shortening his vision. Being inside this body doesn’t help at all to understand its owner. If anything, he’s probably _further_ away than ever from understanding him.

But maybe he should try to understand himself first. To find the source of all these hurtful words he said and for which he would have to reluctantly apologize later, of these bitter emotions overflowing him, of the doubts clouding his heart.

The source of that growing uneasiness when he had the most wonderful woman touching him, but he still felt that something was wrong.

The reason why he shouted that last phrase at the most troublesome man, knowing he wouldn’t be heard anyway.

His fingers go right to his head and, without even caring if he’s seen, he just dips his fingers in the locks of black hair, the soft contact bringing back the flashes in front of the mirror. And with them, the truth is showing itself, after a hard battle to rise above the obstacles his mind has constructed for it for so, so long.

He should have understood already that a mirror never lies. Since the moment he looked at his new face on it and his pulse ran with a rage that can’t compare to anything else, not even to the playful butterflies on his stomach when he is near Allura, since the very moment he wished he could see this face smile, and even more, he wished _he_ could be the one to make that face smile, the questions crushing him could have been easily reduced to a single one, if only he wasn’t in this deep denial.

Lance covers his eyes and scoffs, his palm feeling the softness of Keith’s scar and the edges of his cheekbones. Struck by the simplicity of his revelation and the absurdity of the circumstances surrounding this amazing discovery, he just wants to laugh, while he finally formulates the right question in his mind.

 

_...Why does it have to be Keith, of all people?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fight in this chapter was modified. Once again, I'm truly sorry to the people who had already commented before... In fact, the feedback is part of the reason why I decided to fix this and tone it down a liiiitle bit (it was nothing huge, but it was needlessly intense lol). 
> 
> So your feedback is FUNDAMENTAL to me! Please, any opinions are more than welcome so I can give you just what you'd like to see! Oh, and if you came for the giggles, fear not! This is the last "dark" bit. Awkward encounters incoming! See ya on Wednesday!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, capitalism is wild and I had extra work this week.  
> As always, thanks to [Kunfetti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/pseuds/Kunfetti) for her help!

Crossing corridors in flashes of white and blue, Keith lets Kosmo guide him to wherever he wishes in short intervals around the Garrison, pretty sure he may have scared a few people on the way with his sudden appearances, but he’s so angry he couldn’t care less.

His head is running clips on repeat. _Think twice before ditching us_. A hand in his cheek, a sickening lovestruck look. _You are the worst._ A furious scowl, eyes full of resentment.

_Stop running away from me, dammit!_

Keith barely breaths between the skips, feeling how rage and fear crawl in his skin. Because on one hand, Lance is so infuriatingly wrong about him, but on the other… on the other, by now, he probably _knows_. Or at least _should_ know already, about this ugly side of himself that he has been trying to hide, if he gets to connect the dots. His attitude these months in addition to what happened at the medbay were dead giveaways.

But… would he? When the break in their communication is so deep that Lance seriously thinks he willingly left the team to play hero? Him, leaving the closest thing to a family he had since he lost his dad, to run with a group of aliens who risked their lives on a daily basis in not-so-honest businesses… ‘Ditching’ Voltron, for what? Personal glory? Or some other absurd fantasy ingrained in Lance’s oblivious brain, where his months away weren’t miserable and instead the pinnacle of heroism?

When, before meeting Krolia, his only consolation every lonely night was the certainty that at least his team was okay. And that a certain paladin, in particular, had found his place and would be smiling again, even if he couldn’t see him.

_You ran away. Maybe you should have stayed away._

“Arrghh!”

Growling, Keith loses his balance, having to quickly step forward in their last stop to stabilize himself. Breathing deeply, he holds his bony knees for a second and then raises his head to look around.

It’s the dark corner of a huge hangar, faintly lit and currently closed. The five enormous shadows ahead are a welcoming sight, and Keith feels his heart immediately less heavy. They are inside the Atlas, specifically in the new Lion’s bay. Looking down to his side he searches for Kosmo, who sits at his right and raises his muzzle, expectant. Keith kneels until they are face to face.

“That’s my boy. Missed me?” he asks, caressing his head, to which Kosmo closes his eyes, content. Keith smiles at this and hugs him. “I sure missed you a lot, buddy.”

Though hearing his own voice is currently hurting him, the ethereal warmth of his companion is like a blanket over his shoulders and Keith closes his eyes, enjoying it, while the volcano in his chest is soothed. He had tried calling Kosmo when the situation simply distressed him too much to stand it, but he didn’t really expect him to feel it and come to his rescue like that.

“You are amazing,” he mutters, proud. “Pidge told you I was there, huh? And you recognized me. You’re so smart…”

Kosmo is simply sitting there letting himself be petted and watching him without blinking, as always. Keith chuckles, nuzzling him one last time and then he stands up.

The bay looks deserted, the big majority of the crew probably working at the bridge and the rest of the rooms that required attention in the gigantic ship. Avoiding other vehicles that are also stationed there, Keith starts walking at a quick pace with his eyes fixed on Black.

Every step, a familiar murmur in his head increases. The heat of a pulsing sensation that gives him a bit of security over his stormy emotions is beckoning him, and he knows it must be coming from Black. He just has to sit there and prove it. If Black accepts him, maybe he can even fly for a while, away from this cursed place and his own awful choices. The freedom of flying has always been his true solace, and the possibility is making his pained heart beat faster and faster. His long legs are almost trotting now…  

“Lance!”

Keith halts with a slip and, for two seconds, his scared eyes look around searching for Lance… until he remembers _he_ is Lance. A cold shudder runs through his back.

The feminine voice calls again, softer this time.

“Lance?”

Steps are getting closer and he slowly turns around. Verónica McClain is walking in his direction, dismissing a cadet that was accompanying her with a friendly wave. She’s holding a holo-screen frame to her chest and, behind her glasses, she’s frowning. The woman stops right in front of him.

“Hey, Lancey, what are you doing here all alone?” She surrounds him with one of her arms for a short hug and Keith just stands there, awkwardly stiff. As they separate she gets a closer look on his face and her frown deepens. She looks down at Kosmo. “Well, not that alone I guess? Hello there…”

She smiles at the wolf, who stares at her in silence for a second and then proceeds to scratch himself, making her change her expression for an amused one.

“What are you doing? Took Keith’s buddy for a walk?”

“Uhm, yeah, I guess…” mumbles Keith. Verónica raises an eyebrow, in a way that totally reminds him of Lance and isn’t helping at all to calm him down.

“Inside the Atlas?”

“I— yeah.”

Okay, that was really bad and Keith cringes at himself and his inability to think quick. Verónica’s eyebrow stays the same, and he knows he is in danger. Especially when she lightly taps his cheek twice with a finger.

“Are you alright? No offense, but you look terrible. Is everything okay with the team?”

Keith blinks quick, and he feels his face hot. He knows he’s doing an awful job at impersonating Lance, but he doesn’t have any idea how to act around his family. He has seen him with them from afar, sure, but he’s never really interacted with them, nor has he ever had a sister… and much less one so fond of hugs. His weak nod is not convincing at all.

Verónica breathes to ask something again, when they are suddenly interrupted by the sing-song bell of the Garrison announcements system, coming from the main building and somewhere inside the Atlas too. They look up and around while a soft feminine voice speaks.

_“Keith Kogane, please report to the medbay immediately… Keith Kogane, please report to the medbay immediately.”_

Oh, crap. He’s a fugitive now.

The bells sound again after the message and Keith gulps. Nervous, he finds Verónica’s eyes fixed on him and Kosmo. The way she’s examining them like a scanner is making him shudder.

Of all people, he had to run into the smartest of the McClains.

“Is this…” she makes a circling motion with her hand to include Kosmo and their surroundings, “… somehow related to that announcement or—"

“No!” says Keith, a bit too loud. Trying to think faster now, he just clears his throat and mumbles: “I don’t even know why they’re calling him.”

“Really…” Verónica barely blinks while maintaining the eye contact and Keith understands why Lance always said his sister could be terrifying when she really wanted to.

However, with a soft scoff, the woman relaxes her shoulders and then ruffles his hair.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day. And a bad hair day too… Where have you been? I called you yesterday after your mission was canceled, didn’t you see?”

“Uhm, sorry. I’ve been—” Verónica is now combing his hair with her fingers, “occupied with—” she even licks her thumb to accommodate his bangs, making him blush even more, “uh… some stuff. You know… _things_.”

Brilliant, groundbreaking! But that’s all he could come up with, having a sister lovingly primping him. However, this time Verónica holds her screen with one hand and the other goes to her waist.

“Alright Lance, what is it?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. Did you fight with someone?”

He can’t help looking at her with round eyes and she squints with a crooked smile that makes a single dimple appear. Her expression screams ‘bingo’.

“I didn’t,” he deadpans, uncomfortable.

“Hmm…” her hawk eyes stretch even more. “Did Keith say something mean to you again?”

“Wha— Why would I— uh, why would Keith say something mean?” asks Keith, horrified. His new sister is smirking so much now, another dimple appears now on the other side. Smartass.

“You’ve been complaining that he won’t give you the time of the day every chance you get. I’m honestly starting to have flashbacks to when you were on your first year and wouldn’t change the topic.”

What does that mean? Keith feels his cheeks warm and stares at her in what must be an unusual questioning way because she looks surprised at his reaction.

“Uhm, this is the part where you deny it and throw a hissy fit because I am, and I quote, ‘a mean bully’. Now I’m worried… What happened?”

Keith snorts. Classic Lance. The tornado comes, wrecks and nonchalantly denies it. Good to know he wasn’t the only victim.

But his face quickly shifts to a sad expression. He knows that if Lance complained about him to his sister these months, he probably deserves it. The fact that Lance talks about him but for the wrong reasons is just another reminder of his bad decisions, another misunderstanding between them.

His mouth moves before he can think what he’s saying.

“I guess it’s been a bit hard talking to him, lately. And I think—” he swallows. The creeping sensation is back, nesting itself on his chest, dangerously close to his throat. He’s not really talking as Lance this time. “— I think he must really hate me now.”

Admitting this for the first time leaves a bitter taste in his tongue. However, his confession is followed by a chuckle coming from officer McClain, which takes him by surprise. She pats his back gently to make him move and they start walking away from the Lions at a slow pace. Keith throws one last longing gaze at Black, but Verónica speaks again.

“I know we already had this conversation but, Lance… don’t be so discouraged. Keith is your friend. You always speak so fondly of him, and I’m sure he thinks the same about you.”

Warm water is filling his stomach at this comment, making his heart beat louder. _Fondly_?

“You really think so?” he asks, interested.

“Well, he even trusted you to take his wolf on a walk… or is it the other way around?” she jokes, elbowing him.

This makes Keith laugh. He stops though because, in his knowledge of Lance, something like this would probably trigger a snarky retort back, but he can’t come up with any. Instead, curiosity is eating him up and making him… bolder.

“Do I really talk that much about Keith?” he asks, surprised at his own nerve.

They are in the hall outside the big doors of the hangar, and Verónica stops walking.

“Lance, why are you asking me this when you always get mad at me and the guys if we mention it? You almost bit Rach’s head off last time…”

“I…”

He could drop it. In fact, he should. This is too risky but… the temptation is stronger.

His tone is lower now.

“I’m sorry. I just want your honest opinion.”

It’s not a lie. If he was bolder, or smarter, he could probably take advantage of this situation to get some information from such a valuable source, in a very marmorian way. Instead, all his efforts go to stop his legs from shaking and trying not to look like a criminal.

Maybe that pitiful appearance is what makes Verónica sigh and stop the questions to give a straight reply.

“Then the answer is yes. Yes, you talk  _a lot_ about him. Now, don’t get mad at me, but I always thought your obsession with that boy was kinda cute. Almost like—” she presses her lips, reconsidering. “— Uhm, never mind. Anyways, I remember how crushed you were when he was expelled. I always told you that you’d run into each other again and, well, as you already know… I’m never wrong.”

The buzzing in his head is pure shock. He would never have suspected that Lance cared about him so much, much less since that long ago. He always wondered why Lance was so adamant in antagonizing him, as if he knew him, as if he _owed_ him something. When he thinks on how he didn’t even remember the guy, the irony of their actual situation is even more blatant.

That’s karma for you. This is what you get for being an unfriendly bastard in your youth: the dude you ignored ends up coming back to you, declaring you his rival, then becomes your first friend, your second in command and finally, without you even noticing… your _crush_.

A cliché, pathetic, unrequited first love, destined to crash and burn.

At his profuse blushing Verónica lets out a hearty laugh and hugs him with one arm again, this time rubbing her cheek on his. “Aww, you asked! You can’t get mad at me!”

“I’m n-not mad,” stutters Keith. He really isn’t. He’s more like… stunned. Also, ashamed, making him feel so stupid and exposed. Maybe because of this, Verónica’s rough caresses are bringing a small smile to his lips.

It’s nice. For someone so unaccustomed to this closeness, it feels warm and safe, his body reacting to it naturally. Even the pressure from this new info and all the regret he’s dealing with feels somehow lighter. Maybe that’s what happens when you are raised surrounded by a loud, loving family. His sensorial memory is there, and Lance’s body is practically purring to it.

This is another detail to file in his head. Lance likes this physical closeness and relies on it for many things. He likes to feel loved and be pampered. He needs someone who can give him those things. Some time ago, he would have thought it was impossible for him, but after his time with his mother, he was less afraid at these interactions. He even… craves them now, from time to time.

He’s not heartless, but he wishes he was. That way, realizing he arrived too late would hurt less.

Verónica watches his face grow dark again, and whines.

“Aw, it’s okay. Whatever happened, it’ll be alright! How about we go and eat together? I just got to report something and I’ll be free.”

“No, I… really have to go back soon,” mumbles Keith.

“Why?” she asks, curious.

Before he can answer, they turn around a corner and find a group of people talking in the middle of the corridor. They are all officers standing in a small circle, but the pale light coming from the middle of it makes Keith stop, rigid. He’d recognize it anywhere.

_Oh shit._

“Speaking of the devil!” says Verónica. “Great, Captain Shirogane is here.”

Damn, thinks Keith. _Now_ he’s in trouble.

The circle opens and Shiro, in the center of it, raises his eyes absently in their direction. He looks back at the group, blinks twice and peers at the two McClains again. Or rather, the one true McClain and the fake one.

After a few more words he dismisses all the officers with a polite smile and walks towards them. His eyes travel from Keith’s face to Kosmo and back. His mouth tightens in a fine line, frowning and stopping in front of Verónica.

“Everything in order, sir, the bay has power running again,” reports Verónica, a bit nervous at her Captain’s unusual expression.

“Thank you, Verónica, good job,” says Shiro, now with an affable expression. Then he turns to Keith. “Hey _Lance_ , what are you doing here?”

Keith knows Shiro enough to distinguish this as his ‘disappointed but not surprised’ expression. He gulps.

“I, uh… I just came to check on Bl— uh, Red. Just… paladin business, you know.”

Okay that was sad, thinks Keith. He is definitely not half as talented impersonating Lance as the boy is impersonating him, and if not for his hot head, he should have predicted this could happen and stayed where no one could have asked him any questions.

Too late now. Shiro briefly cocks one eyebrow, but then hurries to cover his gesture with a casual smile.

“I see. Well, good timing! I’m finally done here, and we still have plenty to do. Allura was calling for us.”

“Yeah, right,” mutters Keith.

“Well Verónica, I’m stealing your brother, if you don’t mind. Call me in case something comes up,” says Shiro, nodding at her.

“Captain,” answers Verónica, saluting. However, her eyes behind her glasses now travel from one man to the other in a subtly distrusting way, as if she knew for sure that something was off.

Well, no matter what she suspects, thinks Keith, the poor woman will never guess it. However, he remembers how Lance pleaded to Sam to not worry her by telling her the truth and decides to make at least an effort. Not for Lance though – who cared about him, right? —, but because he had a new appreciation for Verónica now. So, he tries his best to wink at her and smile, in a pale imitation of Lance.

“See ya later, bully.”

She blinks surprised, but this finally eases her expression and makes her grin.

“See ya later, Lance. Play nice.”

At least he could do that right. He holds his breath until she disappears around the opposite corner, and then he lets out a prolonged sigh. Shiro shakes his head, hardening his semblance.

“What are you doing here, Keith? You’re supposed to stay in the medbay to avoid exactly this.”

“I know. Sorry, I just had to—”

The obnoxious bell of the announcement system sounds again and Keith groans, covering his face.

_“Second call. Keith Kogane, please report immediately to the medbay. Keith Kogane, please report...”_

“I heard it the first time and thought they had let you out for a while,” comments Shiro, mildly amused.

“Er… Not exactly.”

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Please tell me you didn’t breach our own security to escape the medbay.”

“Well…”

The former paladin is the one sighing now.

“What happened?” he asks.

Keith lowers his head and doesn’t answer. It feels a bit too much like the old times, and he doesn’t like it. He was supposed to be an adult now.

His face must be showing some distress because Shiro’s voice is softer now.

“Look, I know you can’t stand being locked up, but it’s necessary for the time being, you just have to be patient.”

“I know. That’s not it,” mumbles Keith.

“Then what is it?” At his silence, Shiro scratches his jaw. “Hmm… did you fight with Lance?”

Keith raises his face again, pissed off. It’s the second time in less than one hour that someone assumes that, correctly.

“Why would I?” he grumbles. The other man shrugs.

“Keith. I know Lance always gets on your nerves. It’s a miracle you two lasted one day there. He’s always been... you know.”

“Obnoxious? Intolerable?” proposes Keith.

Shiro laughs.

“No, I was thinking something nicer, like ‘special’. But I’d rather hear your story first. What happened?”

“I…”

Everything comes back to him and the mess he left behind haunts him again. He slowly scrubs his face with his hands, looking at the ceiling. There is so much he has been bottling up, and maybe because his short interaction with Verónica left him a bit weak, he suddenly feels the urge to just… let everything out. Spill all his pain and let it go. Looking between his fingers he finds Shiro’s serious face waiting for him.

In his officer uniform, with his new arm, new rank and new white hair, Shiro looks so different to the man that once had to deal with his teenage crisis. However, his compassionate eyes are looking at him with the same sweetness, even after all he has lived, and that is poking another hole in his already crumbling defense. Feeling his hands tremble, he mumbles:

“I can’t… tell you here.”

“I see. Well, let’s head out and we’ll talk. Is that alright?” asks Shiro.

Keith nods, and Shiro smiles.

“I’m gonna tell them I found you, though, or else they’ll keep broadcasting that announcement. Maybe send some OPS after you…”

He kneels down to scratch Kosmo under his jaw while his Altean hand goes to his comm.

“Hello, Sam. I found Keith. Yes…. Yes, he’s alright… Uhmm yeah, I’m afraid he was, half of the Atlas crew saw him already…”

Shiro rolls his eyes and Keith crosses his arms, guilty. He failed at stealth this time. However, Shiro keeps an amused grin.

“I’m gonna speak to him for a while and escort him back to the medbay if you want… Oh? Really? Well, that’s fine. He’ll be happy, I think… Ah, sure. I’ll tell him.”

Keith waits for him to finish the call and then Shiro signals him to start walking.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you later,” replies Shiro, mysterious. Keith doesn’t even complain.

They cross halls and find people working, while the night slowly descends over the Garrison terrains, the last rays of sun entering through the sparse Atlas’ windows. Shiro is casually explaining to him how the ship had sudden problems in its energy network, which was very strange and had them working all day. Keith listens to him and only nods, afraid of even talking in front of the people that stop to greet them on the way. However, the only curious looks they get are directed towards Kosmo, that trots loyally by Keith’s side. No one looks at him twice, and it’s eerie how Keith, feeling so uncomfortable outside his own body, can perfectly pass as Lance, at least when he doesn’t open his mouth.

They finally reach their destination: The Captain’s quarters. A small zone destined to Shiro’s exclusive use, to which he protested enough to make his crew simply move their strings to not let him reclaim any other bed inside the Garrison and force him to use this one, as well as the rest of its dependencies. That was, as Shiro joked, his first mutiny ever.

In his small lounge, he offers Keith a seat, puts a glass of juice in the small coffee table in front of him and sits in the chair across his, ready for a long chat.

“So. What happened?”

Keith grabs the juice and drinks it just to gain some time. Shiro waits patiently. Keith knows he would wait an hour if it was necessary, but it won’t be. Tense, he mutters:

“We fought.”

“I could tell that much,” laughs Shiro, crossing one leg. “But why?”

A simple question that has a complicated answer. Taking a deep breath to calm his voice, Keith decides to talk, and he does so immediately. He narrates what happened since they started taking the test that afternoon, to what came after.

At first, he drags the words and makes awkward pauses, but after a while, the ideas are almost running over each other to exit his mouth. He doesn’t omit anything. With his face burning, he confesses his tantrum regarding Allura, their hurtful words, and repeats what he remembers of all the – stupid— things that Lance said too.

Recalling everything is taking him for another lap on the emotional rollercoaster that this day has been. Repeating the words in Lance’s voice is just as infuriating as hearing them the first time coming from his own mouth, seeing himself be usurped in that way just to poke at the things that bother him the most in this life.

And, worst of all. The burn of jealousy and frustration is back in the pit of his stomach when the image of Lance using his face to watch at Allura like she was the sun crosses his mind. It’s intolerable. He closes his eyes at it, but it’s useless: it stays there, behind his eyelids, torturing him.

“Do you see how it is, Shiro? At one moment we’re playing tic tac toe… and then the next moment we are yelling at each other! And I just— I can’t deal with this anymore,” he concludes, scratching his own head with fury.

Shiro didn’t say a word during the story, but now he is uncrossing his legs and leaning towards Keith, resting his arms on his own thighs and trying to find his protegee’s eyes.

“Can I say what I honestly think without you getting mad and clamming up on me?” he asks, completely serious.

“What? You’re gonna tell me not to run away too?” spits Keith, mad.

“Do I need to?” retorts Shiro. He isn’t playing around. Keith resists his intense gaze and shakes his head, defeated.

“Alright then.” The smile is back on the Captain’s face. “I’m sorry to say this Keith, but you aren’t being too subtle. These months it’s been pretty obvious to everyone that you have a problem with Lance.”

Keith shoots him a desperate look.

“How much?”

“Very,” states Shiro, and Keith groans, “but still, I don’t think the guys really know _why_. After all, it could be for many reasons.”

“And you do?” asks Keith, stupidly defiant. If Shiro rolled his eyes he couldn’t even blame him, after all, anyone with two working brain cells would probably see the full picture after his pathetic narration.

… Anyone except Lance, thinks Keith. _Hopefully_. He never wished before that his own brain didn’t work, but now that Lance is using it, he does.

However, instead of that, Shiro just exhales a short breath, amused.

“I think I can take a guess after what you’ve told me. Again… not very subtle.”

“Stop mocking me, Shiro. I— I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“That tends to happen when you like someone. Or so I’ve heard,” Shiro chuckles.

There is a strange blooming sensation in Keith’s core, like a waterfall suddenly flowing from the depths of his chest. He feels his cheeks hot and his throat tight.

This is the first time someone gives a name to this feeling, and also the first time it’s put under a light, dragged from the darkest corners of his heart. It’s raw and exposed, uncomfortable… _ugly_. Not how people say love looks like. And saying it out loud makes it powerful and real, with all that it implies.

Like failure, for example. Because these feelings were born just to die.

Keith crosses his arms over his legs and bends his back to hide his face on them. It doesn’t help at all to put his nose on the skin of his wrists and _smell_ it. He shuts his eyes, feeling trapped again. He needs to get out of this body as soon as possible, before his sanity wears out, before it can’t contain his emotions anymore.

“Keith, calm down.” Shiro is standing up from his seat to walk around the coffee table and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t want this anymore, Shiro. Why… Why does it have to be _Lance_?”

The hand on his shoulder clenches it.

“I know what you mean. But still, there’s a reason why you chose him, and maybe it’s worth the fight?”

“The _fight_?!” Keith raises his face to look at Shiro furiously. “What fight? I’m just there, making a fool of myself while he’s… he’s…”

He can’t bring himself to say it. Is this a war? It’s the shortest one ever, then. It was lost before even starting. Utterly decimated, and not even by an enemy, but a friend.

He would never hold it against Allura, and that’s why lashing out at her is making him feel like a total jerk, making the situation twice as nasty. He sees why a guy like Lance would be dazzled by her. Hell, if he had any interest in women, maybe he would too. Not the case, sadly.

He is apparently only attracted to morons.

“Listen, Keith. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it for you. We all know Lance has always been a flirt, and after this long, he may have a chance with Allura. But still—”

“Whatever, not like I wanted to do anything anyway,” Keith interrupts him, blushing. “Just forget it, okay?”

That’s not true. There’s plenty he’d like to do, now he can see that clearly. The fact that he has avoided touching any part of this body, and the fact that even watching his own face puts him in a panicked state says a lot about that.

And by his look, Shiro is not buying it either.

“I didn’t finish. I was saying that having a chance is not the same as taking it. The same way that having a feeling is not the same as expressing it.”

“What do you mean?” asks Keith, lost. Shiro lowers his gaze.

“You are mad at Lance for misunderstanding you, but have you ever sit with him to tell him your point of view? Have you ever given him the chance to question your decisions? From what I’ve seen, you barely allow him to speak to you now. Even when you left, you didn’t want to hear us.”

“I— It’s not—” Keith is stammering because Shiro is making him feel dumb. It’s true. His first instinct is always concealing, getting away. Before people leave him, before they disappoint him… he denies them the chance to do so.

“Keith, I’ve known you way longer than them, and I also thought you were leaving to find out about your heritage. No one wanted you to leave, but no one stopped you, because we truly believed that. But from what I’m picking today… there was more to it than just finding your Galra ancestors.”

Keith looks at his own tan hands. Still pretty. He remembers those twitching fingers counting and making motions that brought butterflies to his stomach, that sudden visit on his room surprising him at first, scaring him after.

“He… came to me. He mentioned he was worried about the team. He said this wasn’t a participation game but a war, that we needed the best pilots. He offered to step down. And I was— It felt like the right thing to do, then. Everything falling into place.”

“Well, it worked for you, and I’m glad it did. But for us…” Shiro sighs, looking to the side with clouded eyes. “It was tough for the team. But especially for Lance. The… clone. Didn’t make things easy for him. No one did, in fact. He wasn’t the same after you left, and you know already, a lot happened after that.”

The Captain sighs again.

“None of us is the same as when we began this journey. I know you and Lance couldn’t see eye to eye before, but after all we’ve lived, I know how much he truly values you. I’d even dare to say he _needs_ you.”

“But that isn’t enough,” deadpans Keith, surprised at his own greed.

It isn’t enough. It’s flattering, at most, but now that everything is out in all its ugliness, he doesn’t even know what else to expect. There’s nothing there for him, anyway. What do you do with a lot of useless, worthless feelings? Burn them?

… How?

“It isn’t enough, yeah,” Shiro agrees. He kneels by Keith’s side, still clutching his shoulder. “But you two are the wings of Voltron for a reason. I’m sure you know each other better than you think. And those things you don’t know… you must be brave enough to reach out and ask.”

“Ask what? How much he hates me, from one to ten?” sneers Keith.

“Hmm… how about how much he _likes_ you, from one to ten?” proposes Shiro.

A moment of silence elapses between them, Keith processing the words slowly.

“Are you… are you seriously suggesting that I should _confess_?” he finally asks, stunned at the absurdity of this. Not only would he humiliate himself, but it could even ruin the team. They weren’t just any ordinary cadets living in a rom-com, they were the paladins of Voltron. Defenders of the Universe. Needed in a radius of many, many galaxies. Paladins of the sentient machine that probably wouldn’t work if their pilots are having love quarrels and dumb love triangles.

Shiro, however, is dead serious, which makes no sense at all, given how he is the former Black Paladin and should understand better than anyone the situation.

“Not exactly. No one knows what’s in Lance’s head, but, Keith… if you _want_ to know, you must ask. The things he said to you… I don’t know.” Shiro scratches his neck. “Look, at least give him some space to say whatever he wants to say. Because Lance may be wrong about many things, but he’s right about one: running away is never the wisest choice, and it’s about time you stop.”

Keith squints. It’s been so long he almost forgot about it, but… wasn’t Shiro kinda chaotic with his own love life? He was too young to really meddle, but still…

As always, with only a look Shiro can kind of guess his thoughts, and he snorts.

“I feel so judged by Lance right now, please don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re making no sense, Shiro. I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” complains Keith, still blushing. The man lets out a faint laugh and stands up, turning his back on him, hands on his back.

“I don’t want to be irresponsible with what I’m saying, but… I guess I simply don’t want you to repeat my mistakes. I know this is my own experience and maybe I shouldn’t push it onto you, but I’ll just ask you to never forget that this is a war we are fighting. We are far from finishing it, and that’s why… you can’t risk bottling your feelings thinking that someday everything will work out by itself. Because it won’t.”

Guilt stings Keith right in the chest. He knows why Shiro thinks like that. The memorial they visit often is a permanent reminder of that.

“Shiro, I— I never meant to—”

“I know.” He turns around and smiles at him. A sincere gesture. “I’m saying this because it’s all I can give you right now. You know I want the best for you. And I promised your mom I’d help you to find some happiness outside your paladin role too, after all.”

“What?! When did you promise that?!” asks Keith, horrified. Shiro laughs at him.

“Who knows…”

“Shiro, c’mon!”

Shiro laughs louder, but Keith feels so ashamed. Making Shiro recall such painful things on his behalf was never his intention. He clenches his fists on his legs, lowering his face to hide a pout. The former paladin, however, notices it. He rests his palm on his head now.

“Hey. I’m fine, and so will you. Just… think about it, okay? Think less of what you want, and more of what you need right now. And whatever that is… don’t let fear cripple you. That’s all I can say. You can leave it or take it…” Shiro ruffles his hair. “No hard feelings.”

What he needs instead of what he wants. He only wants to disappear, honestly. But what he needs… well, for starters, to apologize. To Allura, and to Lance. He needs to face him, to ask him what he meant with his words, to explain what he meant with his own. To recover their friendship, the trust they had in each other.

He can see a bit of his reflection in the metallic glass he left on the table. This irritating face with its blue eyes had given him many things, and he was trashing them because he wasn’t able to accept that he couldn’t give him _everything_.

This realization is equally shocking and shameful. He never considered himself greedy, until now. Maybe that’s the root of his problem.

Maybe he can work on it, without giving the truth away. Learning to take the few things Lance can give him and be happy with that. Maybe that way, the uncalled burn of his heart will eventually die, and he’ll be able to go back to how they were. No feelings involved.

He blinks, watching the expecting expression of this true brother that, fortunately, life sent his way. Though his conclusion may not be the one he was hoping for, but still…

“Thanks, Shiro. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

Shiro smiles widely.

“That’s all I need to hear. Now, let’s go. I’m starving, to be honest.”

They leave the quarters and walk towards one of the Atlas exits. Keith remembers that Shiro had something to say to him after their chat and asks him about it. The Captain smirks.

“Oh, right. Well, Sam said that you guys don’t have to go back to the medbay tonight. They gave you the all clear to go back to your rooms.”

“Really? Why?” Keith asks. Not that he’s complaining, a night away from Lance is just what he needs, but it’s still surprising.

“I guess the recurring calls they did summoning you to the medbay raised a few suspicions,” says Shiro, and Keith shakes his head. 

"Whatever. Fine by me.”

“Yeah… there’s a catch, though,” says the Captain. Keith raises a brow.

“You’ll have to sleep in Lance’s room.”

“What?!”

That’s exactly what he DOESN’T need right now. A night in Lance’s bed? No way in hell. That would be a night on the cold floor of their rooms for him.

“Sorry, not negotiable. Unless you want the cadets of your wing starting rumors about how Lance is coming and going into your room…” says Shiro.

“Who the hell cares?!” growls Keith, raising his arms in frustration.

“I do, and so do you. Believe me, I know a thing or two about these kind of rumors.”

Keith presses his lips and feels a void in his chest at Shiro’s sympathetic look. It was long ago, but he’s right. Even he remembers.

The rebellious streak is showing up again. All of a sudden, he can clearly remember why he felt a twisted pleasure when they kicked him out of the Garrison. Strongly inhaling the cool night air, he declares:

“I still hate this place.”

Shiro laughs and shakes his shoulder.

“Can’t say I blame you… Don’t tell anyone, though.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much going on in this one, but I just needed Keith to have a moment with Vero and Shiro (#AdashiDeservedBetter2kforever). Now Lance is gonna have a "moment" too... I wonder with who? Hehe (hint: it's not going to be sweet lmao).
> 
> And since you're still here, please answer this [trascendental question](https://twitter.com/apaladude/status/1045517605501636608?s=20) on twitter and help a sis with the new chapter! And, please, leave in the comments anything else you'd like to see in this body swap au. This might be the last chance~
> 
> Thanks for reading, for your kudos and wonderful comments, every time I get one I nearly cry! See ya soon!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late but what's new? Lots of flashbacks in this one, sorry. And as always, thanks to [Kunfetti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/pseuds/Kunfetti) for the invaluable help!

_“Second call. Keith Kogane, please report to the medbay immediately. Keith Kogane, please report…”_

The Garrison audio system broadcasts the message a second time and Lance flinches, raising his head slowly from the position where he has been for at least forty minutes. He has spent that entire time sitting on one of the beds, hands still on his head, holding to his black hair.

If not because everyone is looking for Keith, probably someone would have noticed his stiffness before. It’s just now that, finally, a doctor comes to check on him and he realizes his petrified face must be truly something when she offers him a tranquilizer, in what can only be deemed as an act of compassion. Heh, at least _someone_ is trying to put him out of his misery. That makes him smile.

“Thanks doc, but not necessary,” assures Lance. Then he scratches his jaw. “Now, if you offered a lobotomy…”

It’s just a joke.

... Maybe.

The doctor furrows her brows, worried, and Lance chuckles, reassuring her one more time about his optimal state. Still looking curious, the doctor goes back to the other side of the quarantine room.

Left alone again, Lance stands up, stretches his tense body decidedly ignoring the feeling of his clothes raising over his taut abdomen, and concludes that moving around will help shift his stagnant ideas too. Currently, they are just clogging his overloaded brain. He starts pacing back and forth in front of the window and lets his thoughts roam freely again.

So, in summary: he, Lance McClain, red paladin of Voltron and certified hopeless romantic, is currently crushing on no other than Keith Kogane, black paladin of Voltron and – allegedly— unapproachable rival.

Also, as if to spice things up: current occupant of his body.

He snorts. The levels of absurdity of their circumstances are off charts.

What’s the worst part? The fact that he apparently fell for a boy he declared his rival himself, going an extra mile to antagonize him at any chance he got? The fact that said boy barely speaks to him anymore and after their last fight probably hates him? Or the fact that he is currently inside _his body_?

He growls, grabbing his hair again. Blinking, he turns his head to his right and notices the doctors on the other side of the window looking at him perplexed. Ashamed, he smiles, waves clumsily at them and resumes walking, red-faced.

Dang, he is like a lab rat and can’t even panic in peace! Should he lock himself in the bathroom or…?

… No. The mirror is there and looking at his own face right now is not an option. Just remembering the images from this morning is enough to make his stomach jump. Lance’s shoulders drop while he covers his face and whimpers.

Damn you, Altean machine! This whole mess is its fault. He is pretty sure this realization wouldn’t have hit him like a rock falling over his head if it weren’t for this body swap deal. It took him only one day and a half on Keith’s body to succumb to whatever feelings he is having right now, while he could still be living a peaceful existence ignoring them completely, if not for this stupid alien voodoo.

He stops walking, swinging a bit on his heels. Is that true? The Altean machine hit him because he was distracted thinking of other things, after all. More than things, people… Wasn’t he thinking about Allura… _and_ Keith back then? Wasn’t he actually caught in the usual never-ending chain of thoughts that were giving him insomnia lately?

He whimpers again. During the last forty minutes he did nothing but repeat their fight in a sickening loop, only interrupted to question himself once and again the same thing: _why_ Keith. Of all people, it had to be the grumpiest, hardest, most unapproachable man he knows. It’s not even because he’s a guy, though it does come as a surprise that he can crush this hard on one… did he even have a previous reference? Not that he remembers… But, more important than that, it’s because he is a _terrible_ guy to fall for. Like, seriously. Why?

Lance sighs. He knows, in the bottom of his heart, that he has some answers for that. He doesn’t even have to dig that much for them, while the smartass part of his brain attacks him with a lot of unwanted receipts. _‘How many times have you thought Keith is cute in the span of two days? How many times before this? Remember when he came back, got down from the Altean pod and your mouth dried? Remember that time you composed an essay for the Yupper on how cool Keith is? Remember when he carried you to the healing pod? Yeah, you do...’_

Ugh, he hates it when his brain does that.

Yes, as much as he has tried to convince himself otherwise, Keith has many merits. He’s handsome, capable and brave. His absence hit him almost as hard as his comeback. Lance can’t deny it anymore, and the truth is out already, at least for himself, so... maybe it’s time to confront it and man up. Ask the right questions, for starters. Maybe instead of why Keith _,_ ask something more relevant, like _when_ Keith.

WHEN? Since when has he been burying these thoughts? When did he look at the guy and thought, _‘oh yeah, that’s the one’_ ? Did he _ever_? No matter how much he looks back at their interactions, he can’t name an exact moment where his fuzzy feelings would take a form. It’s like a nebula of memories dusted in something unnamed, guiding all his actions until, ultimately, they brought him to this very day, and this very mess.

It’s the diffuse timeline what confuses him. He is sure his feelings for Allura are, or at least were for a long time, genuine. Even now, he still can say he likes her because, c’mon, who wouldn’t? The evidence is there: His heart beating so fast when they met, and every time he saw her gorgeous smile, like when she would discover a new thing, or casually touch him, like today. His will to trust the princess with Blue surpassing his sadness for saying goodbye to her. The bitter, ugly sting of jealousy when Lotor got close to her, offering everything she wished and, as a matter of fact, totally deserved – all he felt he couldn’t give to her.

In that case, when _exactly_ did Keith get in the middle of that?

The door suddenly opens and the same doctor from before approaches him. Lance fears for a second that they’ll intend to restrain him before he carves a hole in the floor with his incessant pacing around, but the doctor is smiling.

“Sam called. Captain Shirogane found Keith.”

“Hah, figures,” sighs Lance, feeling relief. At least Keith hadn’t gone that far. And of course he’d run directly to Shiro… what could he be telling him, though? His jaw tenses as he imagines how that conversation may be flowing. So worried about his own feelings, he hasn’t really stopped to think about the consequences of their fight… Remembering his own angry face and that last glare that Keith gave him makes him swallow hard.

However, the doctor gives him good news.

“Well, our tests will continue, but we think that keeping you around here will raise more suspicions than allowing you to go back to your normal activities… Mr. Holt suggested to let you go back to your rooms tonight,” she explains.

“Oh, really?” Lance perks up immediately. “Great, I can’t stand being here anymore… no offense, doc,” he adds, with a repenting face. The doctor chuckles.

“Understandable. However, you must try to avoid exchanges with people unless necessary, and also, we’ll ask for you two to go around the Garrison accompanied at all times. Someone will come to escort you to the bedrooms and we’ll continue with the tests tomorrow… if you two agree, of course,” says the woman, looking inquisitively at Lance, who blushes.

Did the doctors witness their little quarrel, then…?

“Sure, sure, no prob doc,” he hurries to say. However, feeling the urgent need to get away from the cursed room, he adds in a shy voice: “Hey, in that case… can I take a walk?

“Now?”

“I won’t go outside the hospital wing. Just around the medbay, while I wait for my babysitter? Please?” begs Lance.

The doctor looks at her colleagues who are listening on the other side and they nod. Lance can’t help but think they kinda pity him after the last hour show, but he is so anxious to leave he doesn’t even care. Smiling, the doctor gives him the all clear.

He doesn’t intend to break his promise anyway. He just stretches his legs walking around the small hospital wing, now almost empty. He remembers how the first two months after the battle it was fully packed and in chaos, but ever since the Coalition came and started helping the human survivors, it was quiet.

His feet guide him to the entrance of the medbay, expecting to maybe meet the person who is to escort him to his room, but instead, he finds a man leaning in the wall of the corridor, arms crossed, one foot staining the wall behind.

Yikes, he knows that profile and it’s not one he wants to see now. Maybe if he turns around quickly...

“Kogane.”

Lance winces. Curse his luck... the protocol wasn’t established yet in case someone wanted to strike conversation with Keith. He takes a deep breath and turns towards the voice. The guy propels his body from the wall and walks in his direction, arms still crossed, while Lance feels a small pinch of disgust.

That’s James Griffin, a face he isn’t particularly fond of, after all.

“Griffin,” he answers, in a cold tone. James raises one eyebrow slightly.

“Heard they were calling for you to come here. I didn’t see you come in,” says James. Lance doesn’t miss the way he seems to be taking notice of his disarranged appearance. It puts him in a sour mood.

“Oh, were you waiting for me at the door?” asks Lance, in a mocking tone. To his surprise, James’ ears tint in a subtle pink.

“In fact, yes,” he deadpans, cocking a hip as if to imbue himself of some authority, though his ears are still rosy. “Since they were calling for you to come here, I thought I could finally ask about the satellite mission. It was canceled yesterday, and we haven’t rescheduled. No explanation either. What happened?”

Lance’s eyes analyze the guy with a hint of contempt. He isn’t supposed to speak to anyone, but if someone comes his way, he can try to be a convincing Keith, at least. And judging by their past interactions, Lance is pretty sure he can deal with this dude the same way the leader would do.

Crossing his arms and tilting his head down in Keith’s traditional way, he says:

“Since when do I owe you explanations, Griffin? Aren’t you fond of the command chain? Ask your superior for them.”

Ohhh, that feels nice. Victorious, Lance stares at Griffin and sees that he is showing a strange expression, half surprised, half offended.

“My superiors don’t know anything, that’s why I’m here. Last time you said I could ask you directly for details of our joined missions and, still, I couldn’t find you for two days. What’s up with that?”

_… Excuse him?_

“I— I did?” stutters Lance, dumbfounded. He’s shocked. Since when do Griffin and Keith share details of their missions personally? Since when do they even _talk_?

“Yeah? Like a month ago?” replies James, squinting as if he thought Keith was pulling his leg, “I thought we cleared our issues that night. Should I not have taken it seriously, or what?”

That— That _night_?! Clearing issues… what issues? Lance looks to the side and covers his mouth while a burning sensation starts spraying around his chest. Not a new one, and not a nice one either. His characterization is quickly crumbling, but Griffin apparently hasn’t noticed it yet. At Lance’s prolonged silence, the pilot scoffs, resentful.

“Fine, guess I didn’t get the memo. Still, I hope for a warning the next time you _swap_ personalities, at least.”

Holy crap, this smartass always had to nail it. Lance shudders, but James is turning around to leave the medbay and the paladin snaps out of his shocked state. He can’t ruin this. They work with the MFE guys and if Keith was really in good terms with him, he doesn’t even want to think what he’d say if he messes it up.

“Wait! Wait, sorry. Sorry, I just… uh…” Lance isn’t sure what he is even doing, and apparently, neither is James. After a quick glance, he tilts his head in that stuck up motion Lance hated so much when they were kids, while his expression shifts from indignant to curious.

“Are you alright, Kogane? You’re… weird. Are you sick, by any chance?”

Lance looks at him dead in the eye and, this time, James definitely blushes. He can’t blame him, Lance knows very well the intensity of Keith’s gaze, and he’s putting it to good use. He isn’t even trying, because something in the way the man is asking about his health is surprisingly soft and makes Lance consider, out of a hunch more than a certainty, if he wasn’t waiting all alone here just to ask exactly that. Which isn’t doing wonders for his inner tempest, honestly.

Without even thinking, Lance spouts:

“What? Are you worried about me?”

To his utmost surprise, Griffin snorts. He is still a bit flushed, but his smile is nonchalant.

“I guess I am. I think it’s not like you to cancel a mission without warning.”

What does he know? The familiarity with which he is referring to Keith is starting to scorch Lance’s insides slowly. A creeping rage starts poisoning his veins and he notices his face hardening. Even if Griffin is the leader of the MFE pilots squad and Keith the leader of the paladins of Voltron, isn’t this a bit too much familiarity to a dude that, once upon a time, painted his eye purple?

But ah-ah, he knows what this is, and he will control it. He is no stranger to jealousy, and he isn’t about to start doing sad displays of it the same day he realized his feelings for Keith. Much less wrecking his new acquaintances, knowing how bad Keith is at making friends.

Containing his impulses to defend Keith’s interests, he tries to put a neutral tone.

“Sorry about that. We’ll let you know when we can reschedule.” Then, pursing his lips, Lance reluctantly adds: “Thanks, anyway.”

Griffin stares at him with one brow raised and Lance fears he may have been _too_ nice now. However, the concerned look in James’ eyes says otherwise.

“Alright. But if you need a break, just… let me know. We can make do without you for a while. If you tell us in advance.”

The sincereness in his tone makes things worse for Lance. This is so surreal. How did they reach this point after their rocky start? He feels the acid in his stomach raising and the sensation is surprisingly nostalgic. It opens a pit of memories, flowing out of control and so clear as if they happened yesterday.

Lance was so small and insignificant back then, at his thirteen years, trying to be a good boy, following the rules. Staying under the radar and doing the job. He was skilled, actually. But never as good as Keith Kogane, the weird black-haired kid with an attitude, nor as James Griffin, top smartass of the class.

They were brilliant and made him feel that he wasn’t, for the first time in his life. But, out of the two, the one who truly interested him was Kogane. As time passed, he noticed that whenever he would stand behind Keith in a line and could see from up close his hair, when they would pass each other in the halls, when he took the simulator and remembered that Keith’s eyes were following him, he would always feel this new, tingly sensation under his skin. Awkward and innocent, he identified it as envy, because Keith was unfairly good at everything he strived to do. And cool. And, to top it all, he was his hero’s protegee.

He would pester Hunk with his thoughts about him. He would ramble for hours to Verónica in the officer’s lounge. And, as time passed, he would try to get on his level, but with no results. Kogane wouldn’t spare a look his way, and frustration built up at the same rhythm his body started to stretch.

Then that day when he saw how Griffin mumbled something, and then Keith proceeded to trash him on the floor like a wild animal, his heart… simply stopped. Then it pumped again, quickly.

Loud thumps, he remembers. As both of them were dragged by officers, he felt the weirdest mix of sensations. On one hand, admiration for that strange boy, who would smack a dude bad mouthing him without thinking twice, but and on the other… pure, shameful, out of place  _jealousy_.

Because Griffin was a douchebag, but at least he was a douchebag that could get Keith’s attention if he intended to. And that was something Lance really wanted, for some reason. He would never appeal to the same low method, of course, but still.

After that day, he changed.

He started boasting, being noisy, provoking Keith at any chance he got. When he was assigned to the cargo pilot course, he was crushed. When they told him he was going to be transferred to the fighter class he could only smile for a minute, before they informed him that Keith had flunked out and he was taking his place. The hollow space in his chest at the news could have been more than mere disappointment now that he thinks about it from his new perspective. The one that considers Keith a potential romantic interest...

Weird. Suddenly, the 'when' question has a possible answer. A ridiculous one, though.

He couldn’t be… since _that_ long ago? But that would mean that Keith is his…

Lance raises his eyes to find James’, looking at him as if he was sick. No resentment, no arrogance, no scorn. Just worry. His prolonged stunned silence is making matters worse.

“You’re pale now, you sure you’re alright?” asks James, stepping closer. “I could—”

“I’m fine,” interrupts Lance, raising a hand to make him stop. He is incredibly uncomfortable, but he knows that the right thing to do is to be nice here. He tries his best to smile a bit. “Just tired, nothing big. Don’t worry.”

“I see,” says Griffin, stepping back. “Well, I didn’t know you weren’t feeling well. I guess I should pester someone else, then. Should I talk to your second in command, or—”

“No! No, no, no, not Lance,” Lance hurries to yell, making Griffin flinch. Clearing his throat, he tries to fix it. “Uh, I mean, Lance is busy. With Shiro. Atlas business…”

“I was thinking about Princess Allura, but alright,” sneers James. When Lance furrows his eyebrows, Griffin snorts again. “It’s a joke. Not a word about McClain anymore, I already learned my lesson since last time.”

“Last time…?”

The main door of the medbay slides open, and two people come in.

“La— Uh, Keith!”

Hunk and Pidge walk towards them, both fixing their cautious eyes on James.

“Ah, guys. Uh, right on time,” says Lance, and his friends wince at his words. That’s a sign that he’s out of character, so he hurries to add: “How did it go?”

“Fine. But it will take us another day. We informed Iverson,” comments Pidge, her eyes still scanning the MFE pilot. But she’s throwing a lifesaver and he’s picking it.

“I see. Well, nothing to do about it,” says Lance in a low voice, crossing his arms again. Turning to James, he smiles slightly. “Well, Griffin, see you around. Talk to Iverson, he’s the one in charge now.”

“Alright then,” says James to the trio. “Good night.”

The paladins mumble their answers and the pilot leaves the medbay, with one last lingering gaze back that gives Lance a sudden need to punch something. After he leaves, Hunk and Pidge surround him.

“What was that? Why was he here?” asks Pidge.

“Apparently, checking if Keith was dying or something. They are buddies now, can you believe that?” Lance spits. With James gone, he is letting out some of his bubbling rage.

He isn’t really grateful for the free trip down memory lane, but it had been quite enlightening. At least he understood that his invented rivalry with Keith started back in the times when Griffin and Keith were neck and neck, and he craved for that same thing because… reasons. Did he fail? Yes, miserably. Would he ever recognize it? Nope, most certainly. Geez, talk about shameful youth memories...

But what is really churning his insides is the discovery that at some point, during these months when Keith would barely speak to him, he somehow had managed to resolve his issues with Griffin, and now he was in friendly terms with him. A guy who knew nothing about him and, still, would be so entitled as to come and casually demand explanations and stuff meanwhile Lance, his fellow paladin, second in command — suck it, Griffin— and, over everything, _friend_ , almost had to book an appointment just to talk to Keith.

Also, what is this bullshit about a _‘night'_? In what context…? He just can’t visualize it, and his clenched fist is starting to feel numb. This... sickening feeling is quickly getting old.

But Lance lets out a prolonged sigh. No matter what personal irks he has regarding this whole situation, it’s not his place to say who Keith can befriend or not, anyway. He is borrowing his body, not his life. He did his best to not ruin it, at least, though now he’s feeling… exhausted.

Maybe a bit hurt, too.

Hunk and Pidge watch him slowly deflate and then look at each other.

“… Okay? I didn’t know that,” says Pidge. Then she smiles, smug. “Anyways, they told us about Keith’s escape. I gotta say, I wish we betted money on it. I’d have won.”

“I’m glad we didn’t. I had more faith in Keith,” admits Hunk. “What happened there?”

The red paladin looks at his friends and considers the pros and cons of telling them the truth. The pros would be hearing a second opinion on this matter and letting out the secret eating his brain, for some relief. The cons, though... would probably be a lifetime of bullying and jokes at his expense. Some of them aboard Voltron. And in front of Allura.

Not that hard to decide, after all.

“Just a, uh… disagreement. Not important,” he mumbles.

There’s something unnerving on the look that Pidge gives Hunk, and the lack of questions that followed, but he doesn’t dare to ask. Instead, Lance goes to say goodbye to the doctors and follows his friends through the Garrison corridors, greeting here and there the few members that dared to look at him in the eye. Though under these circumstances Keith’s intimidating presence is a perk, Lance still feels a bit lonely having people avoiding him on sight. He wonders, with a pinch of pity, if Keith lives like that. Is it the scar? Or just the terrifying mullet…?

 _‘Valid, but probably not the reason,_ ’ thinks Lance, one corner of his mouth crooking. Nope, the real reason is, most certainly, the lack of smiles. Again: a damn shame. The world didn’t know what it was missing.

But he did now, and the sole memory warms his heart.

Hunk and Pidge talk about their day and inform him of their activities, but Lance can’t really pay that much attention, still caught up in his thoughts.

In the span of a few hours, he has realized his feelings and got an overwhelming amount of information to back them up. Even walking through the Garrison corridors is unearthing more memories that further prove he has been a lost cause since long, long ago.

The 'when' question was short lived. His thirteen-year-old self was mesmerized by this other kid and he simply didn’t get it. He never questioned himself why being rejected by Jenny Shabon hurt less than being ignored by Keith, for example. Nor why after he was expelled, the bad taste in his mouth lasted for months. He was living his dream, but his motivation was… gone.

He should have noticed something was off when he, a student trying to graduate, simply jumped down a cliff ready to defy the authorities and infiltrate a top-secret facility, just because he saw Keith appear out of nowhere and go in first. The chills in the Altean pool and that time Keith rescued him when the Castle tried to kill him, that time he gathered his courage and knocked on his door feeling a knot in his stomach… Those were all dead giveaways he just let fly over his head because denial is a powerful thing.

A person who makes him want to be better. A person who is strong and he can admire. He was lucky enough to have many people to fit that description around him, but now that he looks back, only one of them could truly drive him mad, make him jump out of his own skin, make him act ridiculous.

It’s so painfully obvious now. It’s been for years.

Dang, he is _dumb_.

“We’re here,” announces Hunk, and Lance comes back to reality, dizzy. His friend notices his face. “Are you hungry or are you feeling bad? Even for Keith, you’re looking kinda pale, pal.”

“I’m just hungry,” mumbles Lance, sitting in a stool of their common lounge. The paladins asked to be treated like ordinary cadets and that means they share some common areas with other members of the Garrison, though most of them are now assigned to the Atlas and, therefore, spend most of their time there. So, right now and luckily for him, no one else is around.

He munches on his food with Hunk and Pidge, feeling their subtle glances, dead tired. Even his brain stopped asking questions by this point, half-working in a strange empty state. He recalls that last night his doubts didn’t let him sleep at all and he chuckles into his food. Oh boy, he didn’t know what he had coming in just one day.

But now he is almost grateful. With so much sleep deprivation, maybe his head would finally give him a break and he’d just drop dead in his beloved bed. He sighs, longing for it.

“Well guys, if you don’t mind, I need to catch some sleep. Being this broody is truly exhausting. Gentleman, lady, goodnight,” he jokes while he stands up and heads towards his door.

“Where are you going, Lance?” asks Pidge. At his oblivious face, she facepalms. “You have to sleep in Keith’s room, didn’t they tell you?”

“WHAT? No! But— Why?!” groans Lance.

“Well, it would be weird if someone saw you coming out of your room as Keith and vice versa, don’t you think?” says Hunk.

“But— I mean, yeah, but it’s not like—”

Lance stops talking. His ears detect voices coming from the corridor. Even more, he is sure one of them is Shiro’s, and he will be there at any moment. Which means…

Feeling his cheeks hot, Lance walks the five steps to reach the door next to his.

“K, point taken, goodnight guys!”

He enters Keith’s room and swiftly closes the door, the exact moment he hears the lounge one opening. He stands there trying to listen with his ear glued to the metal, but the doors are sturdy, and he barely catches a few muffled voices, none of them being his own.

Lance steps back, scratching his neck. It’s better this way, at least for tonight. He just… can’t deal with Keith right now. Extending a hand to reach the light switch, he turns on the lights and takes a look around the room, curious.

It’s a standard barracks room identical to his and, much like Keith’s room at the Castle, this one doesn’t have many personal things scattered around. The only things that catch his attention are some weird devices over the drawer, the paladin suit lying in a corner in disarray and, to his surprise, the messy bed. Given the spartan way on which Keith tried to keep the team organized in space, he expected to at least find some military discipline here.

However, a water bowl in a corner reminds him there’s another roommate freeloading in this room, and he smiles. That’s right, Kosmo was there waiting for Keith last night, alone and probably bored, which explains the chaotic state of the bed. In fact, given the wolf’s record, it’s a miracle that nothing looks particularly chewed. Lance vaguely wonders if the Garrison is just ignoring the fact that one of its members brought his alien pet with him in favor of his position as a paladin of Voltron, or they are just too scared to discuss it with Keith.

Smirking, Lance kicks his boots off while looking at the immaculate walls, in total contrast to his room. No photos, no personal mementos. His mind bounces around some wild ideas. If he could, he’d fill that wall on the side with photos of the team, of the Lions, of Keith’s mom. Of course, he’d make a special corner for Kosmo, too. And maybe, out of pure mischief… he’d sneak a photo of _himself_ there, if only to piss Keith off when he finds out. Would he take it down at once, angry?

The sole idea makes him laugh.

“Oh my god, why am I like this?” he mumbles to himself, putting his hands in front of his face. He snickers into them, but his laugh soon dies, and he lowers his hands slowly.

He bites his lower lip. Being inside the room of a person you have feelings for should be exciting, but instead, he is starting to feel queasy. Barefoot, he is still standing in the middle of the small place, unable to decide what to do.

He could make use of all of Keith’s personal things in the adjacent bathroom – they are meant for his body, anyway— but he honestly doesn’t have the strength to be assaulted by another mirror reflection, nor another analysis of Keith’s features.

Just one night of poor hygiene hasn’t killed anyone, he thinks, looking down at his body.

Even more than his toothbrush, if there’s something he truly misses is his pajamas. Sleeping two nights in a row in the Garrison uniform is a sin, and he already feels like it’s glued to his skin. Is a change of clothes a violation of their pact? They should probably discuss it, but he guesses that taking off at least the jacket is fine, and if it’s not… he doesn’t care, because he simply can’t stand it anymore.

Tilting his head down and with trembling fingers, he unbuttons the jacket slowly. The contact of the chill air with his torso, covered only with the standard undershirt, makes him shiver in relief. His eyes linger for a few seconds on the vision of the nice lines his taut muscles make under the white cloth.

_Bigger, cooler, grizzled…_

An insolent hand makes a sudden attempt to feel the warmth of his own skin through the shirt, but he stops it halfway. Having a rocking body that _may or may not_ be making him feel equally envious and hot-faced is not an excuse to touch it, he reprimands himself. Nope.

Determined, he takes off the jacket. Well, this one should go to the dirty laundry, probably, but for now, he’d rather just hang it there decides Lance, extending his naked arms to do so.

And then he freezes.

His eyes run through the markings on his skin that he doesn’t recognize. He knows for a fact that they weren’t there before: Lance saw Keith in the pool once and saw his arms many times after too. But not after his comeback, he realizes, surprised. And now, these pale arms are littered by scars and marks that probably tell a lot of stories he completely ignores.

Keith is a soldier and so is he. He has a big scar in his back from that one time he got shot and had to be put in the healing pod, for example. But this revelation shocks him nonetheless, more than it probably should.

His mind suddenly takes him back to their fight of this afternoon, the recriminations he spat on Keith’s way, and his hurt, disconcerted eyes.

‘Ditching Voltron’, ‘heroic adventures’, ‘running away’… strong words he used in such a careless way. His fingers travel to his right arm and trace one of the scars, dangerously close to his wrist. A nasty, nasty cut…

He thinks of the time that Keith spent away from the team, risking his life and how they ignored all he did. Lance spent that entire time feeling lonely and miserable, pitying himself, isolated. He couldn’t trust Shiro, he felt left out by Pidge and Hunk and had to deal with the whole Lotor and Allura situation by himself.

It wasn’t easy, and he understands that if he said those things to Keith it was out of pure resentment because, deep down, he felt abandoned by him. Left behind, when they were starting to get closer which, now he knows, hurt him for deeper reasons than expected. In all his misery, he imagined Keith doing the usual, being awesome and unbeatable, saving the day as always but, this time… away from them. Away from _him_.

He never stopped to think that, in fact, Keith is quite the selfless person and, therefore, there had to be more reasons for his actions than craving glory. And that he is not unbeatable. Definitely not immortal.

Lance holds his wrist and brings it to his face, closing his eyes. Shit, he knew it already, but this makes even more evident that he will have to apologize ASAP. His pettiness was so uncalled for, even when Keith wasn’t being nice either. He had lashed out at him for a valid reason anyway… how would he feel if he saw Keith letting a girl touch him without permission? Probably a tiny bit uncomfortable, to say the least.

Yeah, they had transformed a small thing into a big mess, and it would probably take a long, serious chat to fix it. One where he couldn’t let his true reasons show, or else he'd risk ruining their relationship even further.

Exhausted and depressed, he lowers his arm and drags his feet to the bed, raising the covers and flopping on it with little grace. He scoots on the mattress, covers himself with the sheets and, as his head hits the pillow, he lets out a relieved sigh. _Finally._

It’s time to stop thinking and let himself be embraced by the kind arms of Morpheus. At last…

After a few seconds, he opens one eye and his nose twitches. The faint smell coming from his surroundings seems to envelop him, and he gulps, nervous. That must be Keith’s smell, and it’s… it’s kinda nice? But distracting...

Raising the covers over his head, he lets out a muffled scream before realizing that the smell is stronger that way and he is ridiculous _._ Taking a deep breath, he sits in the bed, curses, takes the pillow to turn it around in hopes that it will be colder and fresher, and then his hand grazes something metallic. Palming it, he grabs it and it shines in a soft purple shade, reacting to him. Keith’s blade.

And Lance realizes that he really is a half Galra man now, but the thrill of it is overshadowed by his worrisome nature.

So, their leader missed a few safety lessons in kindergarten, apparently?! No matter how edgy Keith is, sleeping with a knife under the pillow is NOT safe, thinks Lance, scandalized. He is about to grumble about how paranoid this guy can be when another thought crosses his mind.

Isn’t this his mom’s knife, after all…?

Blinking, he turns it. The shed looks safe, at least… Maybe he keeps it close to his head because he misses Krolia?

...

Oh no, not again, sighs Lance. But it’s inevitable.

_… Cute._

He leaves the blade in the nightstand carefully, smiling softly. His mom and Kosmo are definitely Keith’s weaknesses. While he lies on his back as he usually does, one hand tucked under the pillow and still feeling a hint of his own dizzying scent, he vaguely wonders if Keith spoons with his wolf at night. That idea makes his mouth turn up while he presses his eyes, trying to stop thinking about these random facts that are only contributing to make his situation worse, full of details he shouldn’t know.

The smile vanishes when one last lingering idea floats on his exhausted mind. Feeling drowsiness descending over him, his last thoughts land in that other pair of gorgeous eyes he saw from so close today.

If he is reading the signs correctly, Allura is showing interest in him, which is… terrible. After waiting so eagerly for this development, in the most cursed plot twist of all time he discovers that the person he truly likes is that other guy who probably hates him and he, Lance, has a new problem between his desperate hands. _What to do with the Princess?_

He’d rather drown in Bob’s acid tank than hurt Allura in any way. But after discovering the shocking truth, he is also incapable of leading her on.

The stupidity of his choice is outstanding: throwing his blooming chances with an Altean Princess for a grumpy boy with whom even their friendship is questionable has to be the dumbest move of all time. Damn, he hates to prove that Bob jerk right.

Enough, though. He’ll deal with all that when he is back on his own body. For now, he has to concentrate on surviving the time they stay switched. When he is back in his body, thinks Lance on the verge of falling asleep, he’ll do things right and see where these useless, unrequited feelings take him. If they take him anywhere.

* * *

 

An insistent beep coming from somewhere around the room makes Lance crack his eyes open and look around disoriented, feeling his eyes swollen. The strange beeping stops, and he drops his head back to the pillow, sighing into its aromatic warmth. He’s about to go back to Dreamland, when the beeping starts again. He grunts.

Disheveled, with his tense muscles sore from another night sleeping in his uniform and cursing, Lance stands up from the bed looking around for the source of the noise.

He finds out it comes from a device over the drawer that he has seen before: A Blade of Marmora communicator.

It beeps. And beeps. And beeps.

Oh, crap. Could it be Kolivan? Or Krolia? Maybe they have important news of some sort… Lance squints at the clock over the nightstand. 5:36 AM. That’s early for a call, but they are accustomed to that, after living for so long in space where time didn’t matter at all. Still, if he doesn’t answer, would they call later?

After ten minutes the beeping hasn’t stopped, and Lance is walking around the room, stressed. Should he answer? What if it’s important? Worse, what if it’s _private_? He can’t mess around with Keith’s personal business again. But what else can he do? He can’t answer that…

His entire body tenses and chills run wild through it, waking him up completely. If this is an emergency, he better do something about it, or it will be worse.

He takes the communicator, opens his door and peeks outside. The lounge is empty, but it won’t be for long. Taking deep breaths, he goes to his neighbor door. His trembling finger hovers over the call button for a few seconds, but the annoying beeping driving him mad just makes him push it.

He is so scared that he’s feeling cold shivers while he waits for something to happen during these agonizing seconds. The sudden thought that Keith might not have slept in his room attacks him, and he is about to run back when he hears a muffled “coming”.

Not giving him even a second to compose himself, the door slides open and Lance stops breathing.

In the doorframe appears his own body, tall, lithe and overall looking as if a truck ran over him. But Keith’s eyes are wide open in surprise, and Lance looks at him in turn, mouth agape. His eyes travel down his body and then go back to his face, horrified.

“Dude… _where are your pants_?!” he exclaims, covering his eyes when he sees that Keith is only wearing his underwear.

Yeah, that’s not how Lance thought their first conversation after the chaos would go, but it be like that, sometimes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It be like that sometimes, right? Well, the lack of body swap shenanigans is too much, so next chapter we go full embarrasing situations (this is the moment when you leave your requests! Last chance!). Thanks to all the intellectuals who voted on the poll, the results will reflect on our next chapter!
> 
> I took longer this time 'cause I've been sick, but I'm back on my feet. However, since I'm tired of lying to you guys, I'm just gonna say next one will be out some time after the weekend, because I'm afraid of NYCC wrecking my sanity and slowing me down. Let's hope it doesn't!
> 
> Thanks for the feedback and especially the amazing comments that make my heart flutter, please let me know what you think this time too <3\. See ya soon!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Arrives with Starbucks and sunglasses* Hello there! I'm sorry for the delay, I was occupied having a crisis over NYCC, the leaks and the rest of the things that happen daily in this fandom. Anyways, a long chapter to compensate! It was possible only thanks to [Kunfetti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/pseuds/Kunfetti)! And I hope I met every request. It's kinda wack, but I hope you enjoy it!

Until now, Keith never considered himself particularly unlucky, but he must admit that this entire day is trying really hard to convince him otherwise.

In his defense, it has been a long one. And it doesn’t make it better being met by the door of his own room shutting close as soon as he dares to drag his feet into the lounge. His eyes linger on it for a while with a dull bitterness seeping through his mouth. He can’t say he doesn’t deserve it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

So, excuse him if even the most domestic things are being a struggle right now. Still learning how to use his long limbs, he gives Kosmo bread and meat chunks under the table while unenthusiastically stirring his own stew with his spoon, listening to Shiro, Pidge and Hunk exchange updates about their tasks and plans. As the black paladin he should be paying attention, but he is so tired and overall depressed that he barely registers any of it. Something about a free day and clearing their schedules to concentrate on fixing Keith and Lance. Something about a satellite, something about the Lions, something about Griffin talking to Lance in the medbay—

No bad day ends without a major tragedy and it’s about time: at that moment, Keith’s clumsy arm finds a way to somehow hit the edge of his plate and spill the stew all over the floor and parts of himself. Kosmo, startled, teleports from his place under the table to his side. The warmth of the liquid spreads through his right thigh and his abdomen and he instinctively stands up cursing while his friends surround him.

“Keith! Did you burn yourself?” asks Hunk.

“No,” he replies, after a moment of panic, assessing if he had really burned Lance’s skin. Luckily, he had played with the soup long enough it was cold.

“Oh my god, we really should send you back to your own bodies before you hurt each other,” claims Pidge, handing him a dripping dish towel he rejects.

“No, I—” he stops and just sighs, running a hand through his soft short hair in a mix of exasperation and exhaustion. The guys exchange pitiful looks, Hunk shrugging and Pidge shaking her head. It’s Shiro who breaks the silence, though.

“Go and change, Keith. In fact, why don’t you just call it a day? You’ve had a tough one,” he proposes with a compassionate smile.

He doesn’t have to hear it twice. With one last longing look at his own door, Keith nods, pats Kosmo’s head to make him follow, mutters a weak goodnight, and heads to Lance’s room, ignoring the certainty that his friends must be drilling a hole in the back of his head with their concerned gazes. He stops just one extra second in front of the panel to take a last sharp breath before he crosses the door, not looking back. Once inside, though, and as soon as it closes behind him, he lets out a prolonged groan, making his wolf look up at him with curiosity.

He knows this is going to be hell when the first thing that hits him is the nice artificial smell of whatever cologne or lotion Lance likes to wear. It’s really faint, dulled by his own stinky clothes, but his nose notices how it seems to come from everywhere at the same time and it already smells like _danger_ to him.

His head hits the door when he tilts it back. Why is he here, in Lance’s room, in Lance’s body _and_ covered in soup? Sounds like a bad joke that someone is pulling on him, one that is NOT funny at all. What is he supposed to do now? Change clothes? Take a shower? They never got to discuss the extent of their boundaries…

Kosmo sits, still looking up, and makes a whimpering noise.

 _‘Why are we here?’_ he seems to ask. Keith shakes his head.

“Buddy, I wonder the same,” he mumbles, petting him. “But we are staying here for the time being... Don’t chew on anything.”

The wolf stares at him with his piercing eyes as if to manifest his quiet disconformity, but then starts walking around and smelling his surroundings to get familiarized. Still mad at himself for being so clumsy, Keith crosses his arms and decides he should do the same, glancing around the place.

The room is a twin to his and, asides from some of the owner's belongings being harmonically disarranged over the drawer, it’s unexpectedly tidy, at least around his impeccably made bed. In space, from what he remembers, Lance was never a slob, but he would still leave his things scattered everywhere, including the common areas. Perhaps the military discipline really stayed with him and just came back to life at the Garrison, Keith concludes, walking one step further as his eyes divert to the wall at his left.

Pictures of Lance’s family, posters and mementos from space that the boy probably rescued from the Castle decorate the wall next to his bed. He recognizes some as gifts from their Coalition friends too. Unlike him, Lance always made sure to make himself feel right at home in his current living quarters, even during the months when they’d sleep inside their Lions, so it’s not surprising to see his Garrison room transformed into a little shrine dedicated to their adventures and the people he loves.

There’s something entrancing in this collection of images. Wishing to get a closer look, he walks to the bed and bends a knee to support himself on the mattress, but he suddenly remembers his stained and smelly clothes, backing away and growling with irritation.

The piercing smell is nauseating, and Keith looks down to measure the damage. His right leg is damp and the fabric sticks to his skin in a gross way. The left leg has splashes here and there, but the jacket sports a slim trail of dribble from the chest pocket and all the way down. Gulping, he is relieved that at least the soup didn’t land on his groin... But still, the uniform is utterly ruined.

 _‘Great job, me_ ’, thinks Keith, frustrated. Way to add fuel to the fire.

Well, he can’t stay like this, and he thinks Lance would probably agree. So, nervous, he starts unbuttoning the jacket and his eyes travel to the door in the corner. Yeah, the best option would be to leave the stinky clothes there, in the bathroom.

But the bathroom has a mirror…

He stays motionless for several seconds, jacket open, long arms dangling at his sides, feeling dumb. Kosmo lays on the floor by the drawer, and when Keith looks at him the wolf tilts his head to the side, inquisitive. Keith snorts. Being afraid of a mirror is way too embarrassing. Resolute, he walks to the bathroom and opens the door.

He is welcomed by cool darkness and, relieved, he remembers he doesn’t really need to turn on the lights. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the mirror is there, but with the faint light coming from the room, only his dark silhouette is distinguishable. He ignores it while he takes off the jacket and tosses it to the sink. He touches his side and feels the undershirt: soggy too.

“Shit,” he grumbles, but that becomes a mistake in itself when Lance’s voice bounces all across the tiny bathroom, making his heart beat faster. If he stays quiet he can kind of forget he is not really “himself”, but hearing his voice is like inviting Lance in. Which, right now, is not convenient.

His eyes lock in the figure in the mirror, static and mysterious in the dark, a silhouette waiting for him to decide. He knows what Lance would say if he knew Keith were to sleep in wet clothes all night so, after one last moment of doubt, he slowly takes off his undershirt, eyes still fixed on his shadowy reflection. He perceives the way his doppelganger raises his arms and takes the garment off. He can’t see anything, really, more than noticing the motions of his broad shoulders and the curve of his head and waist, but his blood is already pumping faster. The logic of his actions clashes with a deep sense of transgression, because even though he is doing what he must, the act of taking off Lance’s clothes suddenly feels intimate and… _forbidden_.

He slaps his brain back to reality. This isn’t a show for his enjoyment or consideration: he is in charge of this body and he’ll just do what he must, like he’d do for anyone else. So, he breaks the tempting spell of the mirror and simply takes off the rest of the stained clothes save for his underwear with pragmatism, making a colossal effort to keep his mind blank. He throws all the pieces into the sink, turns on the tap letting the water run, and washes himself in the dark with a towel and sparse movements. No contact of his hands with his skin, no lollygagging.

It somehow becomes easier when the cold of the bathroom starts prickling his skin after peeling off his nasty uniform. He usually sleeps like this anyways, so maybe this was his chance to truly rest for the first time since the incident. Lance wouldn’t even know: tomorrow he’d put another uniform and that would be it.

Picking up his boots, he steps out and blinks at the light change. When he looks around, though, he finds Kosmo comfortably curled in the bed.

“Get down,” commands Keith, walking towards him. “We are not sleeping there.”

There are many reasons why Keith would rather stay away from Lance’s bed. Sure, sleeping on the floor may seem dumb, but he did so for like two years and Kosmo was with him then too. However, his wolf apparently got accustomed to luxury: for all answer, he hides his head, turning it to one side and curling even more, as if making a statement.  

Maybe his boy was entering his teenage years.

“C’mon, obey! Here!” insists Keith, pointing to the floor. The wolf ignores him in a way that clearly expresses his opinion on the matter. Starting to shiver, Keith gives up. If even Kosmo mocks his plan of sleeping on the floor while having a bed right there, then he doesn’t want to imagine what the rest of his friends would have to say about it.

“Damn it. Fine, move… make me some space.”

The wolf doesn’t really move but his paws hide under his body and Keith snorts again, finding a way to stretch on the bed by his side. But even so, he is stubborn enough to not use the blankets. He is afraid of what may lie under the covers, of whatever his brain can pick from the simple act of using a bed that is not his so, instead, he just glues his body to Kosmo’s warm mane, sighing. But then the vision of the wall catches his attention again, and he slowly sits up.

Kosmo opens one eye at the movement, while his master takes a good look at the wall from his position. Aside from propaganda about their show and holographic images of Voltron and other Coalition mementos, there are personal pictures pinned to the wall, some in paper, mostly digital. Photos of the McClain family, of the team, of some places… Keith smiles at the picture of Verónica McClain in her officer uniform with her little brother wearing the orange one, making a military salute. That must be from when he enrolled, thinks Keith. He had a similar one with Shiro, though his was much moodier… Lance's bright smile is heartwarming, and Keith regrets again having ignored it for so long. If only they had started on a different foot, things would be so different right now.

No use thinking about the past when the present is messed up, though. He owes an apology to both Allura and Lance. The problem is, how do you apologize about your little jealousy fit without giving away your feelings? He had come to the resolution of mending things with Lance and rescuing their friendship, but he doesn’t even know where to start. He observes the rest of the photos: there are pics of the team there and, again, with another sting in his chest, he notices how most of them are from the time he was away. The Voltron show, a throne room with Pidge and Hunk, people from a planet he doesn’t know… he searches for his own face, and only finds one picture where he appears. It’s an old one, from when they just got their cameras. A selfie of the team, where he is making a broody face, of course.

He lies back again, surprised at how much this innocent display of pictures is hurting him. It’s stupid, but he feels this is a wall dedicated to all people Lance loves and, well… the fact that he is barely there says a lot. More than he wanted to know, for sure...

Keith shuts his eyes. It’s no surprise. It’s just more proof of how one-sided his feelings are. Why is he so hurt by something he already knows? Half-naked, inside a body that drives him nuts and he can’t touch anyway, sleeping in a bed that is not his, he is suddenly the very definition of _misery_. He feels Kosmo shifting closer to him, perhaps perceiving his sadness. He extends a hand to pet him softly.

His wild day is over and the next one is not going to be the same, he decrees. Slowly drifting to oblivion, he decides that tomorrow he’ll find a way to fix this mess, put his best poker face on and endure the body swap for, hopefully, just a little while longer.

But even though his ability to sleep literally anywhere comes in handy here, it’s not good how it can turn off his brain completely. That’s why, deeply asleep, the ring on his door wakes him up in a nice state of absolute indifference. He is aware he feels cold, but he stands up and walks to the door still so deep in sleep he doesn’t even remember he is not _Keith_ , therefore, he doesn’t think twice before mumbling “coming” and pressing the panel to open it.

And that is a big, big mistake.

His heart stops when he is facing a version of himself with the worst bed hair ever, half-dressed in his uniform, looking at him up and down, horrified. Keith’s brain takes one second to reboot and fill him in on how, one, this is not a nightmare – though it might as well be— and two, he just opened the door to the owner of this body while being almost naked, which he won’t take kindly.

The screech that follows just confirms it.

“DUDE! Where are your pants?!”

Keith flinches, snapping from his stupor while his blood pumps fast, and with a nervous look around the empty lounge he grabs Lance’s arm and pulls him inside the room, closing the door. Lance stumbles a bit coming in.

“What are you doing here?” grunts Keith, voice low with a mix of sleep, fear and shame, instinctively hunching a bit, as if to protect himself from the judgement of his own eyes. But Lance can’t even look at him. Crossing his arms tight in front of his chest, he blushes and looks down. Funny how Lance’s reaction watching his own half-naked body would be the exact same, probably, if the real Keith was in his place.

“I asked you first!” Lance argues. Still refusing to look his way, he moves his arm up and down, pointing at Keith blindly. “What are you doing? What about our pact?!”

Kosmo growls as if in warning and Lance starts, stepping away from the bed. The wolf hasn’t forgotten his little charade from yesterday, apparently.

“Easy, Kosmo,” mumbles Keith. Somehow, the interruption gives him a bit of courage, so he tries to play it cool. “I was just sleeping, I didn’t do anything.”

“First, unfair? Look at me!” grumbles Lance, still red-faced and pointing at his own wrinkled uniform. “And second, why didn’t you put on my pajamas?”

“I don’t wear pajamas to sleep. I just sleep like this…” Lance seems to choke at these words, and Keith hurries to add: “A-also, I don’t know where yours are.”

The red paladin is even redder now, though Keith isn’t sure why. However, Lance scowls at him, side-glancing at his body with a pouty expression.

“They are under the pillow; how could you miss them?” he whines.

“I wasn’t using the pillow!” claims Keith.

“Then what the heck were you doing?”

“I didn’t do anything! It was an accident—” Keith interrupts himself when he hears a familiar beeping. His eyes open wide and he gets closer to Lance, who in turn tries to step back, surprised, but Keith searches for the source of the noise and snatches the communicator from his hands with no delicacy. A call.

“Shit… that must be my mom,” he says.

“I knew it!” exclaims Lance, finally meeting his eyes, though he looks panicky. “What do we do? Should we ignore it?”

“How long since she’s calling?” asks Keith.

“I dunno, like twenty minutes?”

“Twenty?!”

“I didn’t know what to do, man! Don’t blame me!” complains Lance.

Keith considers it for a moment. It could perfectly be one of her random calls. However, if it is an emergency or something official, she will call the Garrison next and start asking about him. Not everyone at the Garrison knows about their situation, though…

He looks at Lance, evaluating him. If he can manage to hold a conversation for five minutes, then there wouldn’t be any reason to worry Krolia, and no need for the Garrison to take the call. It was all in his number one impersonator’s hands.

Keith extends the communicator to Lance.

“Answer,” he commands. Lance looks at him with horror.

“Answer? B-but, what do I say?” he stutters. Keith rolls his eyes.

“Just act normal!”

“Normal, what’s normal? Dude, are you even normal?!” exclaims Lance. Keith frowns so much it almost hurts.

“I don’t want to worry her,” he grumbles. “If I don’t answer she’ll call the Garrison sooner or later, may snoop around… Why give her the extra work? Just… say hi to her and let her talk. If it’s important, say you’ll inform them.”

“But what if she wants to talk about something private?” asks Lance, swallowing.

“Hardly. C’mon, hurry,” presses Keith.

Lance stares one last time at him and then at the device in his hands. He clutches it for a second and then, sitting on the floor next to the bed, his other hand presses the button.

A holographic screen projects itself in front of him, and Keith sits on the floor across Lance, who shoots him one last nervous look.

“H-hello, mom,” stutters Lance.

Yeah, they are off to a great start. Keith covers his eyes, already regretting this.

“Hi, Keith.”

Krolia’s voice sounds relaxed, and Keith sighs in relief. At least it’s not an emergency.

“Sorry, did I wake you up? I don’t know what time it is.”

“Uh, yeah, but no biggie. It’s almost six anyway,” says Lance, and Keith cringes. _‘No biggie’…?_

Given the way Lance opens his eyes in panic, he also noticed his own mistake. What happened to his professional impersonator? Frantically, Keith signals Lance to continue talking.

“Uh, so… how have you been, mom?”

“… Good.”

 _Shit._ Krolia’s sharp silence is a red flag, and her son can feel the distrust in her already. He sees through the transparent image how her eyes scan Lance, from his expression to his tousled hair to his disarranged clothes, while her eyes slowly narrow. She is not giving them any clue on how to proceed either, so Lance shifts, uncomfortable.

“Soooo… Uhm, what’s up—”

“Is it a bad moment for you?” interrupts Krolia, in a no-nonsense tone.

“Wha—? N-no, why?” asks Lance, but his eyes betray him when he directs a mute plea of help towards Keith, who is now facepalming.

“You keep looking ahead. What are you hiding, Keith? You aren’t acting like yourself,” deadpans Krolia.

“What?! But we just crossed two words! How would you know something like that?” argues Lance, apparently indignant at being discovered so quickly, making Keith’s mother frown and the black paladin curse by only moving his lips.

“It’s not that hard when you’re not even trying to hide it, isn’t it? What’s going on?”

Of all their encounters with other people, thinks Keith, this one _had_ to be the fastest to go south. Granted, Krolia is particularly smart, but the unfortunate mix of good instincts on her part, and the worst imitation Lance has done of himself on the other are making the situation the most awkward exchange ever. Still, this was his idea, and he didn’t consider how strange would be for his mother to catch him looking like that at 6 AM.

Lance scratches the back of his neck, ashamed, and his apologetic look isn’t helping at all. Krolia was going to question him in her savage way at any moment…

But then the woman surprisingly relaxes her semblance and just hums.

“I see. I never expected… Maybe I should call later, then. When you are _alone_ …?”

_… What?_

“Yeah! I mean, not that now it’s bad, but I’d prefer if… yeah, later,” agrees Lance, relieved, but Keith feels his cheeks warming and his eyes opening in terror when Krolia’s tone gets teasing.

“So _that’s_ why you sound so much like him…? Well…"

“NO!” Keith cries out and crawls in front of the screen, making Lance shift his expression from confused to alarmed and Krolia half-turns her face in surprise. “M-mom, no! It’s not what you think!”

“What…?” Krolia’s eyebrows are so high up they are about to get lost in her hairline, but Lance quickly turns to pick a pillow and throw it violently at Keith.

“What the _quiznak_ are you doing?! I’M NAKED! IN FRONT OF YOUR MOM!” he yells.

“Shit, no, wait!” Keith covers his torso by clutching the pillow but extends a hand towards the holographic screen. “Mom, wait, it’s me! I’m Keith!”

She was misinterpreting everything and her privileged info from the Quantum Abyss was dangerous, so Keith had to abort the mission and take some desperate measures, but he made it even _worse_. Lance covers his face with his hands whimpering, while Krolia stares at both boys, her eyes moving from one to the other before she crosses her arms in a terrifying way that makes her look even bigger.

“What is this? A prank? It’s unnecessary if you just want me to cut.”

“No! Listen to me, something… something happened,” hurries to say Keith. Point taken, she doesn’t appreciate being pranked, especially if it was to cover some romantic affair, which is what she believes she’s witnessing. However, the desperation in his voice seems to make Krolia soften her expression a bit.   

“I’m listening,” she says. Keith looks at Lance, who in turn gulps and nods, and then he proceeds to explain to his best ability their terrible situation, how it happened and how just a few people know.

Krolia unfolds her arms soon and her mouth opens slightly. When Keith finishes his brief explanation, she is quiet for a moment.

“What are the risks of this? How will they turn you back?” she asks, sharply. She isn’t even questioning the veracity of it.

“Uh, well…” Keith hesitates. He has no answer to that, but Lance speaks instead.

“No worries, they are working on it! Allura will bring us back.” He hits Keith softly with his shoulder. _Pretend._ “She and Mr. Holt are working on it as we speak, so no problem! They’ll be done any minute.”

“I see.” Krolia looks a bit more relieved, but then her piercing eyes lock on her son again before she declares: “Still, I’m coming back to Earth. Right now.”

“No, you can’t! You will compromise your mission,” argues Keith. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Lance by his side shakes his head, guilty.

“Believe me, I’m already compromised if I’ll be thinking about you in this state,” she replies. Her expression is so worried that Keith feels a weight in his heart. He knows how much she cares for him, and how she must fear losing him again. But being so far away, there’s nothing she can do, so he tries his best to calm her down.

“I’m sorry. But you really shouldn’t worry. We’ll probably be fixed in a couple of days at most… You know Allura’s abilities. And we’re doing fine. Seriously,” he adds, trying to sound convincing. Lance nods effusively, but Krolia is serious.

“Are you, really?” she asks.

That look is one of complicity and understanding: she is trying to ask something without words. Keith feels so transparent and his stomach tightens. Is he really ok…?

The truth is not what matters, he decides.

“Yeah. For real,” he confirms, smiling softly and feeling Lance’s eyes on him.

Krolia presses her lips and sighs.

“I’m almost done here. I’ll ask Kolivan if we can push it for later.”

“No need— ok, fine,” says Keith, knowing by her stare that he won’t win this argument. She is just as stubborn as him and that’s why he can’t be mad at his mom: on the contrary, his mouth upturns and he thinks he should just change the subject.

“So, what did you need to tell me? Any news or something?”

“Oh,” Krolia blinks once. “No. We’ll discuss it at another time. Don’t worry, it’s not important.”

That fidgeting attitude is new, thinks Keith, raising an eyebrow. Krolia doesn’t take her eyes away but she looks a bit uncomfortable, which is very uncharacteristic of her.

“Uhm, I can leave… If you prefer, I really can,” offers Lance, politely.

“It's ok. It can wait. I better go back and speak to Kolivan at once,” answers Krolia.

“Alright, but don’t rush it,” says Keith.

“I’ll rush it because I’m worried,” she argues, and Keith makes a colossal effort to not roll his eyes. “I’ll see you soon, Keith. Oh, and Lance?”

“Uh? Y-yes?” says Lance, startled.

“Don’t hurt Keith,” she deadpans. It’s not a threat, but still, Lance swallows visibly shuddering.

“Uh, no ma’am. Don’t worry.”

She nods slowly, but her eyes haven’t abandoned her son and he understands she doesn’t only mean his body. Their time and confidences in the Quantum Abyss float between them and he knows that, even though she has never said so, she isn’t a fan of the weird tension between him and Lance. She is being protective in her own way, treading with care, trying not to meddle in respect to their lost years. But Keith knows she is genuinely worried, so he tries his best to reassure her again.

“Don’t worry mom. I’ll be fine.” Then, with a little smile, he mumbles: “I promise.”

He feels how Lance tries to look away, probably feeling he is interrupting an intimate moment. Krolia exhales and smiles back.

“Please call me in case anything happens, no matter the time. I’ll call you again later.”

“Sure. Take care.”

“Goodbye. I love you.”

The communication ends, and the screen disappears. The paladins stay quiet for a while, sitting side by side. Looking down, Keith sees his brown legs crossed in an awkward angle and the reality of their situation hits him hard again.

Right. Body swap, awkward distance, a fight, and an apology pending that he didn’t get to plan. Damn, he should have thought about it before…

But is Lance who breaks the silence, with a long, frustrated sigh.

“Oh man, we blew it… Not gonna lie though, she kinda scares me so I knew it’d be hard…” He scratches his head and frowns. “Still, why did you bust us?”

“Well…. no sense dragging it. She was already suspicious, why continue?” Keith lies, making Lance grimace.

“Hey, I tried my best! I almost had it until you barged in naked,” he claims, and then groans. “Dang, why did you do that? She saw me! What the heck, Keith!”

In Keith’s opinion he was far from ‘having it’, but still, careful not to blow his own cover, he just keeps lying.

“I said it made no sense trying to hide it from her anymore. She would have asked around and… uh, stuff.”

“Stuff,” repeats Lance, unimpressed.

“Yeah.” Keith feels his cheeks heating before Lance’s distrusting eyes, so he hurries to add: “But I expected something like what you did in the medbay, what happened? Weren’t you supposed to be a good impersonator?”

“Hah, _I am_ , but as I said, she is different. And I mean it in a ‘terrifying Galra mom I don’t wanna piss off’ way,” Lance says, crossing his arms. He shoots him a strange look. “But you know what? I also expected something else. Like, finding you dressed, for example.”

“Oh.” Keith surrounds his legs and the pillow in his lap with his long arms, defensively. It’s stupid to cover his body from its owner, but he is covering his dignity more than the physical aspect, in all honesty.

“Yeah, what’s _this_ , buddy? I thought we had a pact! If this isn’t breaking it…”

“It was an accident!” protests Keith, again. He intended to talk about their fight from yesterday, but of course Lance isn’t going to shut up about his pants. So… clothes first, apologies later.

“What kind of accident makes you end up naked...?”

“A wet one.”

“ _Excuse me?!_ ” roars Lance, scandalized.

“I mean SOUP! All over your uniform!” Keith yells back, flushed. Lance looks dumbfounded.

“What the actual _quiznak,_ dude, what happened?!”

In short sentences and without much context, Keith explains his dinner fiasco and how he had to get rid of the uniform.

After he finishes a few beats pass while Lance looks at him, then at the bed – wrinkled, half occupied by a cosmic wolf but still clearly made—, and back at him again. And then, he just lets out the most distressed sigh ever, looking up and scratching his face lightly with his nails.

“ _Dios, ¿Qué hice para merecerme esto?_ ” he mumbles, loud enough for Keith to hear him, shocked at how his own voice can sound so strange in another language. And, for someone who now and then has these native tongue outbursts, Lance looks pretty surprised himself. In fact, he lowers his hands blinking rapidly and glances at Keith, astonished.

“Woah, did you hear yourself?”

Keith nods, wondering why Lance is blushing too now. But the red paladin clears his throat and Keith already knows what’s next, rolling his eyes.

 _“¡Hola, soy Keith y no sé cómo dormir en una cama!”_ says Lance, and then snorts. _“Oh, y tampoco sé lo que es un corte de pelo porque soy un cavernícola…”_

“Are you having fun?” asks Keith grumpily over Lance’s sudden laugh, because this is the medbay all over again, except he can’t understand a word this time.

“Actually—”

The familiar sound of the coffee maker and cups hitting the table outside make both boys flinch and pay attention to the muffled voices coming from the lounge and the hall. Keith looks around for the clock in the night stand and sees: 6:15. Most of the cadets of their wing are up and getting ready for their day, and therefore, they are trapped in the room until they all leave. Lance echoes his thoughts.

“Oh geez, I can’t leave like this…”

“I guess,” answers Keith, clumsy. He turns to pet Kosmo, whose muzzle appears in between them, requesting attention. Tense, Keith is quiet and tries to calm down, but it’s useless: another awkward silence falls between them and he knows this time there’s no escape to _the talk_. But he takes so long gathering courage, that Lance once again just goes ahead and breaks the silence first.

“So…” the boy clears his throat, and Keith hears his own rumbling voice coming from the depths of his chest, low and cautious. A soft tone he doesn’t know if he can make. “I guess I owe you an apology for yesterday.”

 _‘But that’s my line’_ thinks Keith while Lance bounces a leg, hugging his body tighter.

“I’ve been thinking, and I said a bunch of crap I didn’t mean to. Like, the whole running away stuff…” Lance drops his head but raises his eyes towards Keith, apologetical. “I know that was a bit unfair. I mean, not a _lie_ but yeah, not a nice thing to say either, I mean I _know_ you didn’t go away to have fun, and I just… I’m sorry. For being kind of a douchebag. Just this once, though…”

Keith turns his eyes away. Yes, it’s pleasing hearing this, and flattering that Lance has been thinking about him this way, but it doesn’t feel right when he remembers he started the argument. Or when he remembers Shiro’s words… He would love to hear what made Lance change his mind, but instead, he just mumbles:

“No.”

Lance blinks at him, offended, but Keith shakes his head. “No, I mean, _I’m_ sorry. I was the one who— uhm, yeah, sorry.”

Silence again. Keith doesn’t look at the red paladin, but he feels him shifting a bit closer. A good sign.

“Uh… the one who what?” asks Lance, and Keith sees out of the corner of his eyes how his index scratches his upper lip while he smirks. The mood is lifting, and his heart is beating fast in relief.

“The one who started all that shit,” he clarifies, blunt.

Keith feels dumb, but when he finally dares to look at Lance’s eyes, his smile is encouraging. So encouraging, in fact, that he imagines what would happen if he lost his sanity and just… let it go. Spill everything, right here, right now. It’s tempting, ending the absurd cycle of feelings that surface and die, but this is not – and maybe never will be— the moment to do so. Only half of the truth will have to suffice, the half that's away from his deepest feelings. He shrugs.

“I was just pissed about the situation, and I lashed out at you. I guess it’s just me being the hot head. As always…”

And now Lance laughs, the sound sending shivers down Keith’s spine. His own voice, usurped by this terrible identity thief, is sending waves after waves of relief through his body. Suddenly, the room feels brighter, and the moment less tortuous. He even feels the corners of his mouth twitch, infected by Lance’s good mood.

“I guess old habits die hard,” says Lance, sitting more comfortably with a smug expression. “It’s okay, man. No hard feelings.”

The red paladin gives him a quick pat on his shoulder, but he quickly hides his hand behind his neck, and then _again_ , under his legs. Keith raises an eyebrow, but Lance is talking again.

“Uhm, yeah… I-I know our teamwork can be a bit wonky, but it’s just you and me in this mess. We gotta work together or else it’s going to be hell.”

“Isn’t it already?” asks Keith, and Lance grins.

“If there are any more ‘wet accidents’, then it sure will be.”

“It wasn’t on purpose! And forget I said that!”

“Never.”

Lance stands up and stretches lazily, making his neck crack.

“Alright then, asides from the wet accidents…”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, aside from that…” Lance ignores him, pointing at himself. “We have to upgrade the pact. I need a shower and so do you.”

“But...” Keith isn’t ready for this, but Lance won’t give up.

“C’mon, this is, what? Our third day like this? This can’t wait. And you broke the first clause already anyway…”

“There were no clauses, Lance.”

“Well now there’s one! Section one: not flashing your hot bod in front of anyone’s mom…”

He really lost all of his leverage to negotiate there, huh. Recalling their first agreement a couple of days ago, Keith sighs. How did they manage the situation back then? What had Lance said?

… Oh, right.

_“We’re… f-friends, right?”_

_‘Are we?’_ Thought Keith at that moment, still set on keeping his distance from Lance. But now, with the boy casually talking to him and smiling again, he thinks he can do it. He can tolerate it, this renewed friendship, and maybe one day he will be honest enough to believe it, when his pesky extra feelings finally vanish.

So, he stands up too, in front of Lance, and gives him a crooked smile.

“Alright. I guess we can do it. We are both guys...”

Lance’s eyes – his eyes— reflect the first rays of sun coming through the window while looking at him curious.

 _Think less of what you want, and more of what you need._ Keith knows what he needs now.

“... And after all, we are… friends, aren’t we?”

It’s just a tick, and Keith isn’t even sure if he imagined it, but Lance’s face _drops_. In that split second, Keith is filled with the burning acid of fear, afraid that Lance doesn’t even consider him worthy of that, but it lasts just a fleeting moment: Lance’s expression changes, and he suddenly smiles, though his eyebrows move in a weird way.

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. We are.”

“… a good team?” adds Keith. Almost drunk in relief, the memory just popped in his mind and he let it flow naturally. Lance freezes for a moment, and then scoffs.

_“Tú lo que quieres es matarme, ¿no?”_

“What does that mean?” asks Keith.

“It means ‘settle down, Mullet’”, answers Lance, trying to kick him with a smirk. “Now… let’s discuss the new terms. First, I decree that you are wearing only the clothes I choose. I’m not letting you ruin my brand.”

“Fine,” concedes Keith, but caught on wondering if showering in the dark is as dangerous as people say. There’s no other way he’ll overcome the dread of forever filing unnecessary information into his brain in the process.

 

* * *

 At the basement, in front of the Altean again, Keith watches their friends and some officers working on detaching the woman and studying the machine around her. The doctors have been running some more tests on him and Lance too, but this time they are accompanied by the rest of the crew the whole time, so the hours have gone by fast between jokes and chit-chat.

The mood is not particularly optimistic, but at least everyone is visibly relieved that Keith and Lance are not mad at each other anymore, and they even had the delicacy to not comment on their groomed appearances, contrasting their ragged looks from the day before. Still, Keith is sure that some of the glances between Hunk and Pidge are tinted in mischief, but he just chooses to ignore them.

He is currently occupied in throwing occasional looks at Allura and Lance, who are a few meters away, sitting in a corner. The princess decided to check them again, and she started with the red paladin, who went to her a bit stiff. He looks more relaxed now, though.

Keith watches the scene. He doesn’t know what they are talking about, but Allura speaks to Lance animatedly, while he smiles at her from a respectful distance. Her hands hold his wrists and she closes her eyes, concentrating on whatever she is doing that’s making her shine. Keith can see his own profile and the big shadow his body casts on the wall, like a weird dream. It’s still impressive, peering at himself from afar this way. The expression on his face is calm, his eyes set on Allura, blinking slowly. Then, suddenly, Lance turns his head in his direction, and Keith quickly averts his gaze. And he finds Pidge by his side, grinning.

“Any new ideas, Keith?” she asks, showing him her screen and feigning innocence behind that malicious smile.

“No,” he replies, crossing his arms. Pidge snickers and goes to Hunk, while he focuses his eyes on Sam Holt supervising the construction of some new device, but his mind drifts away to Lance’s room, a few hours ago.

During that hour they had to wait for their living quarters to empty, they discussed their new terms for the pact. They were allowed to shower ( _in no less than one minute and no more than three,_ specified Lance), change and wash clothes if needed ( _no more ‘wet accidents’ allowed, though_ ), and even shave ( _no one can know I can’t grow decent facial hair_ , confessed Lance. _No one in this team can grow a beard anyway, Lance,_ argued Keith).

Lance rummaged through his drawers, prepared a whole set of casual clothes and, with one last warning to be respectful, left the room while Keith just stood there, his heart still beating fast, but considerably less heavy. He had done it. He was in the best place he could aspire to be in Lance’s scale, at least for now.

And maybe due to that, the experience of showering in someone else’s body wasn’t _that_ traumatic. Granted, he may have just stepped under the warm water so panicked that he was still wearing his underwear, and stayed there just the regulatory minute they did pact, but he still felt how the stream of water hit his back and how he was unexpectedly less ticklish now than inside his own body… He washed his hair and his body in the same pragmatic way in which he undressed the last night, successfully dissociating from his own identity long enough to get rid of his drenched underwear, dry himself and put his new set of clothes without batting an eye. Or at least without dying in the process and, most importantly, without catching a single image of his body, at least not a new one. That was a feat he was proud of.

But what really hit him was the moment he was forced to finally look at his reflection in the mirror. He had avoided it so much, but now there was no escape. Still, it couldn’t be worse than showering, right...?

Reluctantly, he peeked at the mirror. Two blue eyes gazed back at him and he caught a sharp breath, but then exhaled it, amused.

It was shocking but also funny to see Lance in front of him with the expression of a scared puppy. Pursing his lips to repress another smile, he got even closer and turned his face side to side. Yeah, the high cheekbones, sharp chin and pointy nose were the same as always. His hair was a mussed wet mess, and he swept it back with his fingers. And yeah, that weak beard struggling to show up was a sad display indeed. He looked around and found the set of razors. Carefully, he picked one.

Being an expert in blades meant nothing while controlling his hand from trembling as he slid the edge over Lance’s face. Once again, this ordinary task felt too intimate and dangerous for his heart, and he realized that something this private would have never happened between them if they weren’t in this ridiculous situation. Side by side? Maybe, yeah. But shaving _each other_? Hah! Not in a million years.

For some reason this realization hit him hard, and once he finished he just stood there, hands in the sink and looking into the blue eyes for a quiet minute before turning away and leaving the bathroom.

The image still weighs in his mind and he is lost in it again until a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, startled. Lance’s dry laugh echoes behind him.

“Woah, man, why so jumpy? It’s your turn, Allura is waiting,” he announces, taking his place by Pidge’s side. Lance was looking relaxed in the casual clothes he picked without even asking Keith, of course. 

“How did it go? Anything new?” asks the black paladin.

“Nope. At least nothing relevant,” answers Lance, scratching his jaw and shrugging. “But maybe your caveman skin is too dense for Altean magic, who knows…”

“Shut up,” grumbles Keith, walking away as Lance’s laugh rattles in his ears. That clear and contagious sound shouldn’t be coming from his chest and mouth, but somehow it does and Keith wonders if it will prevail once they are back to normal. He hopes not. He hopes no trace of Lance lasts in him, if possible.

He arrives in front of the princess, sitting in the same chair Lance occupied before.

“How are you feeling, Keith?” asks Allura with a polite smile. Her clear eyes are stopping briefly in certain spots of his face and Keith wonders if she's surprised about their evident change.

“Good. Thanks,” he answers, tense. She lowers her eyes, still smiling, but not as relaxed as she looked with Lance. Keith chews his lower lip.  _Awkward._

“May I?” she asks after a brief pause, extending her hands. He nods and offers his.

Allura’s hands carefully touch his skin as her eyes close. She exudes a soft warmth that immediately envelops them, and their surroundings seem to light up. Keith stares at her in silence. He knows this already, but it’s always surprising to remember how gorgeous the Altean princess is, all flawless features and delicate movements. When Keith recalls how these same soft hands are capable of tossing men around rooms if needed, though, he lowers his gaze, gulping. But this is no time to cower, after all, he is a man on a mission.

“Hey, Allura…” he whispers softly to regain her attention. She snaps her eyes open. 

“Yes, Keith?”

Her tone is trying to sound amiable, but she is clearly nervous. She shouldn’t be the nervous one. Keith takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I just— I wanted to say sorry. For yesterday.”

Allura holds his gaze for a while and then, with a small smile, she concentrates on his hands again.

“It’s quite alright. I made a poor choice of words, I was supposed to reassure you, not worry you like that. The one who is sorry is me.”

“No, don’t be,” says Keith, hardening his voice and making her shift her expression to a questioning one. He can’t stand having another person unfairly apologizing to him. Much less her, who hadn’t done anything at all to provoke such an ugly display. “I was mean to you. I know you are trying to help us, but I let my— I just snapped at you for no reason. And I did it while being insid— uh, _being_ Lance. And I know he’d never speak to you like that, so that makes it worse and I don’t know how to… well, I’m not like him…”

He’s losing trail of what he’s trying to say so he shuts his mouth, feeling his cheeks warming a bit. He doesn’t see Allura’s expression, but her voice is soft.

“It’s all forgotten. Please, don’t worry anymore, Keith. You are in a terrible situation, and I understand you are doing your best…” Her thumb traces the base of his palm before she raises her gaze and meets his eyes, determined. “And so will I.”

The black paladin nods, feeling overwhelmed by her kindness. It only makes him feel dumber for giving her a hard time, but… at least he apologized. He’s thinking about it, feeling his heart a bit lighter, when the princess speaks again, this time in a doubtful tone.

“Uhm, so, Keith… I heard you two had a little disagreement yesterday. Was that… my fault, perhaps?”

“No!” he exclaims, too loud. The crew stops talking to look at them and he sees Lance’s eyebrows raising. Keith clears his throat, lowering the volume of his voice again, flushed. “Uhm, no, Allura. It was just a stupid argument. You know us already. It was… nothing.”

“I-I see,” stammers Allura, still a bit surprised. But her eyes follow the path of Keith’s, who stares nervously at the group. Lance waves at them and makes an inquisitive gesture at him. He ignores it and looks back at the princess with his ears tinted in rose, just like when Lance is flushed at her. She opens her mouth to ask something else, but she regrets it at the last moment. Instead, she presses her lips in a strange smile and goes back to work in silence.

“I don’t feel any anomalies. At least you two are still healthy,” she comments after a while. Sighing, Allura tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while she peers at the rest of the crew. “But we can’t keep delaying our work. I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to try and connect with your Lions as soon as possible, even under these circumstances.”

“I know,” agrees Keith. “But I’m sure we can. I felt Black in the bay. And I feel her now. We didn’t lose our connection.”

“You didn’t? That’s wonderful,” says Allura, relieved. She pats his hand. “I’m sorry. I swear I’ll come up with a solution soon.”

“I know, Allura. Thank you.”

The princess smiles, this time more relaxed. She tilts her head to one side, tapping her cheek with a slender finger.

“Still, it’s quite impressive that the connection is not broken. I suppose it follows your quintessence instead of—”

She can’t finish the phrase, suddenly interrupted by Coran, who descends from the elevator and into the underground complex, speaking loudly.

“Excuse me, paladins! Has anyone seen Romelle?” he asks, his voice echoing everywhere. The team shake their heads, realizing they haven’t seen her in a while. Keith is sure the last time he saw her was when she waved him goodbye at the medbay. The Altean advisor frowns and touches his mustache, uneasy.

“Hmm, I suppose I should look for her around the kitchens, she tends to wander there when left to her own… I’ll be back soon,” announces Coran, and leaves the place while everyone shrugs and comments on how the quirky Altean has been missing for a while. But Lance and Keith are quickly distracted by a new round of boring tests the doctors are conducting on them, to which they both give in, sighing in resignation.

The scientific team is doing their best, but not quick enough for Keith’s taste. Still, at least they controlled the machine from hitting someone else and secured it well enough to study it, so the only thing left to do is to deal with the mysterious redhead woman, still in deep slumber inside it. The problem is that when they try to detach her, her vitals drastically descend. One mistake and they could lose her.

If they can solve that problem, though, then they’ll be able to study her connection to the machine and find a way to send them back to their bodies, assures Allura. Keith just wishes this happens before he goes crazy.

Or worse, before his mother barges into the Garrison to try and fix him with her own hands.

 

* * *

 “No.”

“C’mon! This is part of the pact!”

“No, it’s NOT.”

“You can’t go around looking all crusty, people will get suspicious!”

Lance is back at his own room, late that night. He announced through his comm he was coming to pick some things, but now he’s shaking what must be a tube of facial mask in front of Keith, who wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“I’m not putting any of that crap on my face,” he declares.

“Hello? It’s MY face, chief, that’s the point! But now that you mention it… excuse me, Kosmo…” Lance crouches in front of the wolf, who has already curled in bed again, and half of his body disappears under the mattress. He emerges with a small metallic box and searches for something inside it. Keith peeks at the contents: it’s full of drawings, crayons, what appears to be an astronaut doll and other things that could belong to a child. Lance answers without being prompted.

“Things my nephews left here when they were visiting,” he explains, and biting his tongue, he rummages through it until he finds whatever he’s looking for. “Aha!”

He stands up and shows between his fingers two red elastic bands with black dots. Keith doesn’t understand what Lance intends until, with a smirk, the paladin tries to slick his hair back and the other hand stretches one of the elastics with his fingers.

“No!” Keith steps forwards and tries to take the elastic from Lance’s hand, but he dodges and steps back.

“What’s wrong! It’s just to—” he dodges Keith again. “Hey, stop, don’t try me! I know where I’m ticklish, just a fair warning!”

Keith stops chasing him. Well, he also knows where he is ticklish – literally _everywhere_ —, but that’s something Lance doesn’t need to know, so he just crosses his arms in frustration. The other paladin takes the chance to arrange his hair into a low ponytail, with a shit-eating grin. Once done, he runs to the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror.

“Woah, much better!” he yells from there, while Keith facepalms. Lance comes back. “Dude, consider this new hairstyle… not gonna lie, it uhm… really suits you.”

Keith feels his cheeks warm and covers his face with one of his slender hands, glaring away.

“But you hate my hair,” he mutters. Lance, also a bit flushed, looks at him confused.

“I uh, what?”

“You hate it. You call it a mullet,” insists Keith, frowning.

“It IS a mullet, Mullet, what did you expect?” retorts Lance, flushing further. It’s a curious reaction and Keith confronts him, crossing his arms.

“You said you wanna cut it. Why would I wear it in a ponytail, then?”

“Listen, I don’t hate it, ok?” Lance pauses, and his lower lip twitches. “If… I hated it, I’d already cut it.”

“But—"

“A-alright, enough, this is not about your stupid hair, this is about your _skin_. Sit down!”

Keith presses his lips and drops to the floor with little elegance. Though he really hates this, there really isn’t a legitimate reason to reject Lance, save for how dangerous it’s to be with him in his own room. If he was in his own body, he’d probably be at the edge of madness. At least the body swap helps him control his nerves…

“Now close your eyes and don’t talk.”

Nevermind that, his heart beats out of control at this command. But he does as instructed, and after a strange pause, he feels the tips of his own fingers spreading something cold around his face.

This is too much for his poor self, struggling to remain there stoically while his own voice explains a lot of nonsense he’d never say, confusing him.

“S-so… this is actually a luxury, ok? No Castle, no stores… With all that has happened, no way we are getting any of this any time soon, so you should be grateful…”

“I d—” Keith tries to talk but then Lance smudges some on his mouth by mistake. It tastes like mud and he cracks his eyes open.

“I told you, don’t talk!” exclaims Lance, blushing again. Keith spits.

“This feels like you’re smudging bird shit all over my face.”

“Gross! Can’t you compare it to something less nasty?”

“No, because it looks AND tastes like bird shit,” retorts Keith, taking some from his face with his index and examining it.

“Okay, shut up already and stop touching it! It’s my turn… but dang, you have way too much hair! Cut these bangs!” Lance protests, blowing air up and moving the strands of hair. He takes the other elastic band and simply grabs his bangs and ties them up, in an eerily similar way to that time in Bob’s show. Lance opens his arms to flaunt his ridiculous hairstyle and probably comment exactly that, but Keith points at him.

“Shut up, don’t you dare.”

The red paladin laughs and smudges some of the mask on his own face, while rambling about the properties of it, but Keith isn’t listening. He is too absorbed in watching the way Lance spreads the mask over his own skin and trying to measure the levels of comedy of this situation. If someone told him days ago that he’d be in Lance’s room sharing a beauty session with switched bodies he’d have laughed. Actually, no, he would have probably snapped at that person for mocking his suppressed feelings and imagining him doing something so ridiculous.

The irony of it all is, once again, outstanding.

Like a radio turning the volume up, he hears Lance again.

“… and my sister Rachel let me keep it. I tell you, it was a real battle…”

“Which one is Rachel?” Keith asks, trying to reconnect into the conversation.

“Oh, you knew her, she’s my twin! Uh, my twin who is now four years older than me…” says Lance, scratching his neck and staining it without noticing. “Well, she was older than me for like, four minutes already, so no big deal. At least I’m still the youngest…”

Keith laughs and Lance smiles back. Both of them turn their heads at the same time, to look at the wall and the pictures.

“Oh! That’s right, I can show you! In fact, you should know their names, they could call at any minute like your mom,” says Lance, standing up and detaching a family photo from the wall. He sits by Keith’s side, close enough to brush their arms and shows him the picture.

“So… this is Rach, you can tell ‘cause we have the same face and of course we are the pretty ones…”

“Yeah,” answers Keith unconsciously, and Lance looks at him raising a brow and cracking a bit the drying mask. Keith stutters: “Uh, yeah, I see her.”

“Yeah, uhm… well, that’s Verónica, you already know her, of course. This one is my bro Marco, and that’s Luis. He is the one who usually calls, ‘cause the little ones bug him to do so, they are his children. Ah, this is Sofía…”

Keith tries to listen, but his eyes can’t stay in the photo. Their sticky faces are so close, and he admires the way his own eyes shine innocently while gushing about Lance’s family, feeling equally uncomfortable and endeared. It’s just… so strange to see himself talking this way, like someone who truly grew up surrounded by a huge family, eyes full of love, a voice that softens at the mere mention of these people…

“Are you listening man? It’s hard talking with the mask drying around my mouth, at least make it worth it,” says Lance, and Keith jolts.

“Uh, sorry, I’m listening but I don’t think I can memorize all their names…”

“Well, can’t blame you, we are a huge clan… Oh but, hey! I've got another idea.”

Lance searches in his nephews’ box again. He takes out and puts back a crayon, a wood pencil, another one… until he finally finds what he’s looking for: a pen.

“You can write notes on your hands! I always do, so no one will notice the difference,” he says. He extends one hand, and it takes Keith a moment to understand that he is asking for his. His breath hitches.

Slowly, he extends his left hand and Lance shakes his head.

“Nope, I’m left-handed, it’d be weird if I had notes in my left one, don’t you think? Maybe that’s why you have trouble eating, man. Use your left hand next time, I’m using your right!”

And then he goes ahead and just takes Keith’s right wrist, extending it in front of him. His calloused fingers touch his skin and Keith feels a chill all over. Lance’s eyes are fixed in his own hand surrounding his slender wrist, and he swallows. A few seconds go by before he finally speaks.

“A-anyways… My twin is Rachel.” He writes on his skin _Twin, Rachel_. “The shaggy one is Marco…”

Lance writes in his wrist a word that describes every member of his family and their names. He is doing it for fun and Keith can tell, his lips twitch every time he traces with the pen. Keith twists instinctively at this: he doesn’t really feel the tickle, but his brain is so accustomed to reacting at any touch that he can’t help it. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“What, are you ticklish? That’s new,” says Lance, amused.

“N-no,” lies Keith, but Lance makes a curious face.

“Wait a minute… don’t tell me it’s not _me_ but _YOU_?”

“No,” insists Keith, but then his borrowed body betrays him when he flinches at the mere view of Lance’s hands extending in his general direction.

“HAH! That’s a reaction from a ticklish person, and that wouldn’t be me… I’m the reigning champion of tickle wars against my nephews,” he claims, with a devilish grin crossing his face.

“Shut the hell up, I’m not,” grumbles Keith, totally busted. Lance is not buying it and seems ready to attack.

“Are you a kicker? Or a crier? Depending on your answer I may reconsider my strategy…”

“I said leave me alone! Besides… you are the one in my body right now!” growls Keith, flashing his teeth menacingly. Lance quickly backs away.

“Ok, geez… a kicker then. Point taken. But beware, this privileged info is going to be put to good use in the future,” declares Lance, tapping his temple and smiling like a smartass. “Now, let’s wash this thing so you can appreciate the magic.”

It takes Keith a moment to understand why that last statement made his insides twist. He realizes that it’s very unlikely this will happen once they are back to their bodies. Under what context would Lance be so close to him as to, uhm, tickle him?

Lance goes first to wash his face and Keith stays there, sitting on the floor, hearing Kosmo yawn behind him. He looks down at his own scribbled wrist. The fact that this terrible experience has been his first chance to really know Lance and enter his private sphere is so… absurd. Absurd and bittersweet, just like his own feelings for his right-hand man.

Lance comes back renewed and smiling, but Keith stands up without looking at him. In front of the mirror, he scrubs his face to get rid of the disgusting white mask and he is met by Lance’s smooth face. He hates to admit it, but even he can tell that the grub worked. He exhales, repressing an amused sound. His smile quickly melts, and he just sees Lance’s serious expression for a few more seconds, before turning his back at it.

When he comes back, he finds Lance standing in front of the bed, looking at the wall. He put the picture back at its place, and now he watches the collection with a subtle smile on his lips. Keith, standing by his side, feels a pressure in his chest at this view. In a low voice, he says:

“Everyone you love is there, huh.”

Lance’s eyes travel from the picture of his family through the rest of the photos, until they finally stop in another one. Keith follows his gaze. It’s the group photo, the one where everyone except for him is smiling. And Allura is right in the center by Lance’s side. The red paladin is smiling even wider.

“Yeah,” he affirms, with a soft voice. He faces Keith, smiling with so much honesty that it’s almost blinding.

 _It hurts._ He knows, but still hurts. Dizzy, Keith turns away.

“It’s late. I think we should sleep.”

“Oh! Uhm, sure…” Lance agrees. He swings a bit in his feet, chewing on his cheek as if he wanted to say something, but just smirks and says: “Well, goodnight. Let’s hope they’ll find the solution tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I hope so too. Goodnight,” answers Keith, petting Kosmo without looking at him. Lance doubts for just an extra second before heading to the door and leaving the room. Keith doesn’t watch him leave. He just takes off his shirt, climbs to the bed without opening it again, and lies by his wolf’s side, still wearing the rest of his clothes.

Sooner or later, this will end. He blinks rapidly, and frowns. That’s good. That’s all he wants, in fact… so no reason to feel this creeping pressure in his throat. He scrubs his face with his hands and slowly lowers them. His eyes lock on his wrists.

In Lance’s round calligraphy, the names of the people he loves are a bit smudged, but the ink still sticks to his skin. He smiles at it. Family. Love. Warmth. It’s just wishful thinking, but he wonders how it feels to be one of these people. Someone worthy of this list of names who hold a special place in this boy’s heart, thumping on his chest for just a limited time.

Yes, hopefully, they’ll be back to normal in a couple of days at most. If everything goes well, Keith will be back to his body and his secrets will go with him. It’s what he most wants, but still… surprisingly, there’s an undefined sadness in ending this experience too.

Unless the solution includes amnesia, which would be great, he’ll have to live with the memories he gained these days. The craziest of his life, probably, but also… unexpectedly fun. A chance to get close – in the most literal sense— to Lance, who simply sweeps him out of his feet and sucks him into his rhythm, just like the beginning, leading him on to wherever he wants. Because Lance is like that, and his entire life irradiates this sun-like energy that is contagious, that made him feel for a moment that he really, really can be part of it.

But he’s not. He is abandoning this intimate space he unwillingly invaded, back to his position as a mere friend and away from Lance’s personal sphere. What’s more: all of this will belong to someone else sooner or later, and even though Keith knows this since forever, somehow this night it stings harder than usual.

His hand touches the pillow and his nose dips on it, instinctively searching for the faint smell that lingers there, somewhere… everywhere. Before the annoying tingly sensation climbs from his throat to his eyes, he shuts them close.

It’s not worth this drama. It’s not like he won’t see Lance anymore. This is not like when he left the team and never will be that way again. He will stay by Lance’s side but keeping a respectful distance to not wreck their fragile friendship. And, eventually, he’ll be over this mess, he thinks, hugging his body with his free hand, unconsciously getting into his preferred position to sleep. His lids tremble and open just a bit at the new sensation under his palm.

His hand is casually resting in the curve of his own waist. Keith’s eyes keep gazing at the nothingness in front of him, while he slowly follows the shape of that curve with his fingers, up and down, just once.

Different. Slim. Skin prickling at the touch, sensitive and soft.

Nothing he hasn’t _seen_ before.

Something he won’t _touch_ like this ever again. It’s reserved for someone else.

And after resisting so much the temptation of knowing more about this body, he gives up. Sighing, he leaves his hand there, closing his eyes again. If he can take something with him to survive out of memories when they are cured, then… let it be this. Everything he learned today, plus a soft memory of warm skin under his palm and the essence of sun and happiness nursing him to sleep, while he ignores the crushing clasp of sadness around his borrowed heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, as a native speaker, I've always cringed a bit at the Spanish references in fics, but this was a request that found some approval on twitter (ty guys!) so... roughly, the phrases translate to:  
> \- "God, what did I do to deserve this?"  
> \- "Hi! I'm Keith and I don't know how to sleep in a bed! Also, I don't know what's a haircut 'cause I'm a caveman!"  
> \- "You are trying to kill me, aren't you?"
> 
> I'll try to meet my own deadline but the mean anon coupon for my [Tumblr](http://www.silverineontherun.tumblr.com) is still valid lol. Sorry!!  
> Anyways, I wanted to say many things about this chapter but I'm so tired I can't remember, so you are cordially invited to discuss anything in the comments!! Infinite thanks for your kind and encouraging feedback, it's the reason I'm finishing this fic and I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. See ya! <3


	7. Chapter 7

“Hunk, the left side is dropping a bit. Can you adjust the angle?”

Hunk snorts through the line. He coughs to cover it.

“Like this, _Leader_?”

“Perfect,” answers Keith’s voice through the intercom, satisfied. Lance’s voice quietly grumbles, but the Leader is not done. Hardening his voice, he says:

“Hey, Griffin. Keep the receptor straight. Engage it better, we are about to make contact and it says you are 20 degrees off.”

There’s the shortest pause after these words, before the squad leader of the MFE pilots replies.

“… Roger that. You heard him, guys. Twenty degrees up, contact point in ten, nine, eight…” says James Griffin, while his team acknowledges the order and gets ready to engage the plate the Lions are pushing into the small receptors the other ships are keeping in place.

Lance smiles smugly and cuts the voice channel to concentrate on their task at hand from the Red Lion. However, the paladin’s intercom emerges on the side.

“You are enjoying this way too much, Lance. Don’t get cocky,” growls Keith, from the Black Lion.

“Let me have this, alright? Besides I’m just trying to sound like you,” sneers Lance. That may or may not be a lie and even Keith seems to perceive it.

“Why are you being so harsh on Griffin?”

“Yeah Lance, _why_?” asks Pidge, malicious. Lance swallows hard.

“I’m not being harsh, I’m just giving them instructions, and really well if I say so myself,” he argues.

“Don’t bark at the MFE guys. They are our same rank,” retorts Keith, serious.

Lance can hear Pidge snickering in the comms. Pouting a bit, Lance mumbles:

“At least admit I did great…”

“We are not done yet to say that,” replies Keith, quickly back on his leader role, making Lance roll his eyes. “Alright, paladins. We are almost there, hold the base and maintain the course. Once the receptor is engaged the MFE pilots are done and the rest is up to us. Keep it up.”

The rest of the paladins answer affirmatively, and after a pause, they laugh.

“Oh man, this is so funny. Lance as the black paladin bossing us around all serious and stuff is truly something,” says Hunk, amused.

“As long as the MFE pilots don’t hear us it’s fine. Careful with the voice channels,” warns Allura, though she also sounds entertained.

“Yeah, that would be awkward. Still, you sound cool, Lance,” adds the yellow paladin, not ill-intended.

“Thanks Hunk,” answers Lance with little enthusiasm. After all, though his body is currently occupying the Black Lion’s seat, he is still with Red and just impersonating Keith for the time being. The one sounding “cool” with his voice is their rightful leader.

“No matter, Red. You and I are the ultimate power duo,” whispers Lance, lovingly caressing the panel. His connection with Red is intact, and he is grateful for that.

They are setting the missing pieces of the satellite that, finally, would fix most of the remaining communication issues around the globe. This important mission couldn’t be delayed anymore, as it would boost the morale of the survivors even further and make communication with their new allies way easier. The Coalition helped them finish a huge model that was nothing like they ever had before and installing it by themselves would have taken humanity a good few weeks. With the Lions and the MFE squad, though, it would take just one day to set the pieces in place and then a few days for the alien and human specialists to assemble it and make it work.

Due to Keith and Lance’s incident, though, they had to delay the mission and when it wasn’t possible anymore they decided to just do it while keeping the appearances. The connection between the two paladins and their Lions was fine, at least, but that meant that Keith would be seen piloting Red and Lance Black. To avoid this, they had to dress in each other’s armor, wait for Hunk to debrief the mission to the MFE Pilots distracting them, put their helmets and cross the bay without stopping to greet anyone, and excusing themselves for arriving late.

Then Lance had to give the orders whenever it would be Keith’s cue. Pidge and Hunk helped him set the calculations and now, with one last satisfying sound, the plates are hooked to the small ports and the mission is a success.

“Contact made. We are going back to the Garrison,” announces Griffin.

“Good job. See you later guys,” says Lance, and when the pilots leave, Lance speaks to his team. “See? How was that? Am I a gentleman or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” dismisses him Keith, though he sounds amused. “Let’s finish this quick and call it a day. Sam said they may have news today about the Altean.”

They still had a lot of worries and the main one was the mystery of the red-haired woman, still slumbering inside that metallic cage. Everyone was convinced that the answer to their problem had to be found in the connection of the woman and the robeast, and though they managed to control the machine and its sentient reactions, any time they are about to release the woman from it, her vitals descend drastically. Something is missing in the puzzle, and they still can’t put their finger on what is it so, of course, it became their preferred topic.

“To think Lance wanted to kiss her to wake her up,” recalls Pidge, while they push another plate.

“I never said that! _You_ said that,” argues Lance, outraged. “I just said you could try waking her up on her own, but you always take me out of context—”

“If we could do that we’d have already done it. You also said to try and wake her up with a pole…”

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT—"

“Wait a tick,” says Allura, suddenly. “A kiss. That… that is actually not a bad idea?”

Everyone remains quiet.

“What?” asks Pidge, confused.

“I-I mean, not a kiss _per se_ ,” says Allura, embarrassed. “But I was thinking. If she can’t survive the detach, she must be linked to the machine in more than one way. And to break it, we may need direct contact. A container just for her…”

“But you said quintessence can’t be contained,” remembers Keith.

“It can’t. It’s not that it dies outside a living creature, but if it loses the link, it will transform into something else. Which is not what we want for you two,” explains Allura. “However... isn’t it strange that her life depends on the machine, but the machine doesn’t seem to depend on her? It keeps working when she is dying. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“Wait, are you saying… the reason she can’t be separated from the machine may be because she _is_ the machine?” asks Pidge, surprised.

“It’s a possibility, yes,” answers Allura.

“Wait, wait, wait… then, are you saying that she could be _swapped_ , like Lance and Keith? But with a bunch of metal?” asks Hunk, interested.

“It could be. Think about it, the Lions didn’t lose their connection with their paladins even though they are swapped. They are connected, but their physical form doesn’t affect them. And the machine is Altean. It may be copying the Lion’s mechanism, but for some reason, the pilot must be physically linked to it. So when we disconnect it from the body…”

“The beast is not a ship, it’s a huge _armor_! But for that, the pilot becomes the machine while it feeds on her body... That means…”

“It means that we have to bring her back to her body before disconnecting her, or else she will be lost in the process because the machine won’t hold her essence without a living link keeping her alive,” confirms Allura.

“Therefore… the ‘kiss’. Allura, you are a genius!” exclaims Pidge.

“Uh, I don’t get it. How come my kiss idea suddenly works?” asks Lance.

“Wasn’t I taking you out of context?” mocks Pidge, making Lance growl.

“It means we need a living link between the machine and the woman to channel her quintessence and make it travel back to her body before we can detach her. Someone touching her and the machine, like a bridge. Those who sent her may do it this way, meaning here, someone has to do it too.”

“But who?” asks Lance, though he already knows the answer.

“Me, of course,” confirms Allura.

 

* * *

When they descend from the Lions, eager to rush to the basement, they find an unexpected problem.

“Kogane?”

James Griffin calls for Keith just when they are leaving the bay, and the team freezes. They are about to make an excuse to take Keith and Lance, but then Keith makes them a gesture to proceed and stays behind with Lance, who feels the venomous bubbling of rage at this minor delay.

“What is it?” he barks. Keith surreptitiously hits him with his feet.

“Sorry to interrupt,” says James, not very sorry, looking at Keith as if asking why is Lance listening to their conversation. “I thought it would be good to discuss some things about today’s mission before we get another one together. Do you mind?”

“Yeeeeeah, I can’t right now. It’d have to be some other time,” answers Lance. Keith grumbles, making Griffin look at him again.

“When would that be? I would like to know,” insists James, polite but strict, as always.

“Look, pal—” starts saying Lance, but Keith interrupts.

“I’m sorry, we are busy right now, could it be in another moment? We have a meeting in the basement and they are waiting for us.”

Lance doesn’t miss the way Griffin’s eyes move from one to the other paladin, noticing the armor switch. He didn’t see them descend from the Lions, but his eyes show a questioning look at the new colors. And Lance thinks, feeling a mischievous grin forming on his lips, that he _really_ may be enjoying this a bit too much.

“Exactly, it’s just like Lance says,” he claims, patting Keith’s back, making him roll his eyes. “I’ll let you know when we can talk, ok? See ya.”

He grabs Keith’s shoulder and drags him to the door, throwing one last glance back and smiling unnecessarily smug.

“Alright, what is your problem with Griffin?” asks Keith after they leave.

“ _My_ problem with Griffin? I just thought you were the one who had a problem with him, I was just trying to stay on character,” lies Lance, trying to avoid the question.

“That was when we were kids. Now I don’t have any problem with him. He is good at what he does,” simply says Keith, making Lance’s blood boil.

“Oh, but you can’t tell _me_ I did good? Geez, thank you, Leader.”

“You did good.”

Keith doesn’t even blink at this, he just states it and the easy way on which he gives him praise confuses Lance for a second.

“But… you... uh, okay, fine.” He is torn between feeling proud and irritated. However, he decides to use the opportunity to talk about that thing that has bugged him for days. “Still, now that you mention it... what was that about a, uh, how was it? ‘ _Night’…?_ You had with this dude?”

“A night? What are you talking about?” asks Keith, frowning.

“Yeah, like, he came to me the other day saying that you two were such good friends after _that night_ … and stuff. Just wondering,” mumbles Lance, trying to not sound that salty. Keith considers it for a moment.

“I guess he meant the night they released us from the hospital. I went right to Black and he was there, working late on his ship,” explains Keith. “He came to me and we clarified some of our issues. We agreed on working together if needed and that was pretty much it. He was still hung up on that fight we had when we were kids, but I thought it was stupid. I don’t really care.”

“Yeah… super stupid, haha...” articulates Lance, feeling stupid for being hung up in that same fight and the consequences it had on his entire life. But, well, at least Keith didn’t seem too interested in Griffin, he thinks, wrinkling his nose. Otherwise, it would have been a very, very tragicomic repetition of their little rivalry charade from their youth.

Considering that, Lance gets lost in thought for a while in bitter silence, until Keith interrupts his ruminations.

“And why are you asking about that? What did you think it meant?”

“Huh? I-I don’t know,” Lance stammers, taken by surprise. “I guess I, uh… thought it was weird of you to be friends with such a stuck-up dude. One you even punched once.”

“He is a good guy if you don’t get in his way. I actually like that, it’s easier to work with him like that,” replies Keith.

“Good to know,” grumbles Lance, but he doesn’t have much time to mull over this information when they hop into the elevator that takes them to the lower level of the Garrison.

And there, they find everyone surrounding Allura, who is explaining her theory to an interested audience.

“If this machine somehow emulates the Lions capacity to connect and retain the paladins’ quintessence, then just as I did with Shiro, I could try to bring her back. And if that works, then maybe we can do the same with Lance and Keith.”

“Princess, is it safe for you?” asks Coran. Allura smiles.

“Nothing will happen to me. We are just going to test it.”

For a few hours, everyone works on preparing Allura’s intervention. When they are ready and the dangerous machine is secured, Allura steps forward, putting a hand on the Altean’s face, and the other touching a safe port of the connection. For around three minutes, she concentrates on her task and glows, while the scientists of the Garrison take notes and look at her astonished. The machine struggles, trying to free itself from Allura’s grip, but then many things happen at the same time: the machine loses all its power in one last loud struggle, Allura screams stumbling back until someone grabs her, and the Altean is suddenly expelled from the pod and falls forward. Luckily, a doctor is quick enough to hold her. And the woman is still unconscious, but alive.

“Allura, are you ok?!”

Everyone surrounds the Princess, who is so pale she looks about to faint, her terrified eyes wide open.

“What happened?” asks Coran, fanning her.

“H-her name is Merla. She comes from a c-colony… in Oriande,” stutters Allura, and the paladins gasp. That’s bad, bad news, but not even the worst. Lance isn’t sure if that’s a lonely tear or just sweat running down Allura’s cheek, as she mutters:

“I think we… we won’t need to look for Romelle anymore.”

Lance feels the cold fear that these words provoke in the entire team. He looks at Coran, by Allura’s side, shocked. The bubbly Altean was still missing and the team had been torn between Lance and Keith’s situation looking for her through all of their allies. Whatever Allura saw, clearly couldn’t be anything good.

They sit her in a chair. She tells them she saw a bunch of visions through the Altean’s consciousness, but the Princess shakes her head at most of the questions and doesn’t explain anything else, excusing herself on having to rest and promising to provide information later. However, looking at Lance and Keith, she tries to smile.

“At least now I’m sure I know how to bring you two back.”

Lance feels his heart beating faster, but Allura’s silence is a dead giveaway of a storm coming their way. He turns to Keith, who looks back at him, and sees in his eyes how the Leader has arrived at the same conclusion.

 

* * *

Lying on his back over Keith’s bed, Lance can’t sleep. The doctors recommended them to rest, but it’s still early and his left leg hurts already from bouncing it for so long, so he switches to the right, thinking. If everything works well, they are going to be reverted to their bodies tomorrow morning, after Allura rests enough and the medbay is ready for any emergency.

Though they know the high risks and they understand way too little about the process, which is kind of unnerving, he isn’t really that scared. He has blind faith in Allura’s skill, though seeing her so tired and sad after her first try worries him. And, in addition, it’s somehow lonely to wait by himself for his fate to be decided. The possibility of being back to his body feels surreal, and he wonders if Keith feels the same.

For a long time, he has considered visiting him. He hasn’t, not wishing to disturb him, but also because he isn’t sure what this mood could make him say. The fact that he is aware of his feelings has made even harder to take care of this body, and this last night, he is attacked by fears of what’s to come.

Would this change anything between them? Could he count on Keith coming to his room like a good friend again? Or was this just a short dream where he could talk to this elusive man, and believe for a while they really are friends, just to revert to the old distance?

These thoughts keep him awake until, surprisingly, his comm beeps. He extends a hand to take it and answers.

“Hi?”

“It’s Keith.”

Lance sits upright, his heart beating faster for no other reason than hearing that name, though that’s his own voice.

“Oh, hey… what is it?”

“I was wondering. If you wanted me to call your family before… you know,” says Keith, and Lance’s heart almost stops beating.

“Would you really do that for me?” he gasps.

Keith makes a short pause.

“Yeah. I thought it’d be fair, considering you talked to my mom. I can try to sound like you, I guess… if you want.”

“Wait for me, I’m going,” says Lance immediately, leaping out of his bed, grabbing his holo-screen and already reaching for the panel of his door.

Keith leaves his door open, so Lance enters the room and doesn’t even care that some cadets saw him outside. He is incredibly tired of this hide and seek game, anyway. He is more worried about Kosmo’s reaction, but the wolf is, again, comfortably stretched on the bed, and only yawns when he enters. Lance chuckles at that before looking at Keith.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hey,” answers Keith, sitting on the floor like the time they spoke to Krolia.

“Did you already tell your mom about the change?” asks Lance, genuinely curious as he searches for his family’s number in his screen and sits by Keith’s side, at a decent distance.

“Yeah. She is coming back soon but won’t make it tomorrow. I told her it doesn’t matter, we’ll be fine when she arrives.”

“That’s the spirit,” agrees Lance, passing him the screen. “So… you’ll be calling my brother Luis. He’s the one who usually takes the calls with the kiddos… I hope mom and dad are also there. You remember the names, just in case?”

Keith shows him his wrist. The names are retraced, and for some reason, this makes Lance blush.

“I see, great. Uh, so, Luis. Maybe Rach is there too, but I hope not, she always makes a lot of questions.”

“What about Verónica? Won’t you visit her before the switch?” asks Keith.

“Well, I thought I could visit her but, you know. I’d rather not. She is way too smart, she’ll notice something is up if I go and fake I’m you…”

“Yeah, I know,” laughs Keith. This makes Lance smile.

“It’ll be fine. As you said, I’ll see her when I’m back.” He tries to sound cheerful and eagerly points at the call button. “Alright, just… let them talk. Ask about what they’ve been doing, and you won’t even have to say a word, they never shut up.”

“Sounds familiar,” jokes Keith, curving his mouth to one side.

“Very funny. Alright, go for it and don’t blow it,” says Lance, crossing his arms and smiling at him. Keith raises an eyebrow but makes the call. As expected, his brother takes it.

“Guys, come here, it’s Lance! Hey Lance!”

“Hey bro,” answers Keith, and Lance smiles wider and wider as Keith talks to his family. He is nervous, but also very polite and evidently trying his best, which makes Lance’s stomach burn with a mix of pride, gratefulness and that something else he doesn’t want to name right now. He is sad he can’t speak to them, but having Keith interact with his beloved family is a gift that’s making him emotional. He knows the only reason he offered something like this is that he understands how important it is for him and his busted nerves to count with his people before the risky switch.

If he could hug Keith without any consequences for his weak heart, he’d do it. Too bad that’s not the case.

His chatty family doesn’t leave him out of the hook until half an hour later, and when it’s time for their goodbyes, Keith already looks tired. It’s convenient, though, because his family decides to finally let him sleep. His mother waves sweetly.

“Bye Lance, _te amamos!”_

Though he is sure Keith should at least understand that bit of Spanish, during a split second the black paladin looks at him as if asking for instructions. Lance doesn’t even think twice: close to Keith but out of the camera range, he moves his lips and whispers “I love you too”.

Keith’s jaw slacks for a few seconds and even his family notice his weird face.

“Lance…?”

The paladin snaps out of it, a bit flushed.

“Uh, nothing. I love you too. Goodnight!”

A chorus of “Night!” sounds before they cut the call and Keith drops back, sighing in relief. Lance watches him with a smile.

“That went well! I hate to say it, but this time you win the impersonating game,” he admits.

Keith opens one eye.

“Does everything have to be a competition with you?”

Lance opens his mouth to give him a sassy answer but thinks it twice. Actually, that’s a good point. Half of their problems came from his ridiculous habit of provoking Keith into bickering. Now that he knows where that comes from, though…

“No, I guess not,” he says, making Keith raise an eyebrow. Lance shakes his head. “I guess the right thing to say now is ‘thanks’. Thank you, Keith, you did great.”

If he knew this was the right way to disarm Keith, he would have used it before. The black paladin blinks in rapid succession and his cheeks dust in pink as he lowers his gaze.

“I… I did what I could. But you will be able to call them tomorrow anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” answers Lance, enjoying the image. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

“Right.”

Another pause. It’s not an uncomfortable one, but none of them is moving from their position yet, so Lance carefully scoots a bit closer and tries to find Keith’s eyes again.

“Say, are you scared about tomorrow?”

Keith is still slightly blushed, but after considering the question for a few seconds, he answers in a firm tone.

“No. I’m sure Allura will fix us. I trust her.”

“That’s the spirit,” repeats Lance, chuckling. And he is grateful, because when Keith acts so self-assured, his courage always spreads to him, somehow.

“What about you? Are you afraid?” asks Keith. Lance holds his gaze for a while.

“Not about the switch, no. But I… well…”

Is this the moment when he explains to Keith how afraid he is that everything they learned about each other through this terrible experience will vanish? Should he confess how he fears they’ll just go back to their crooked dynamics from before, maybe genuinely forgetting all that has happened? Or worse… _Faking_ to have forgotten?

Watching his own face now, he decides to keep quiet. In the same way he will speak to Allura as soon as he can, he will talk to Keith if needed. If he doesn’t want to revert to their distant treatment, it would be in his hands to avoid it. No more blaming others for his own cowardice, for his own mistakes.

“Nah, I’m not really scared. Just anxious, I suppose… Let’s try to rest and hope everything turns out well,” Lance answers eventually. Keith nods, and both stand up.

“Goodnight, buddy. And thanks again,” says Lance. And, in one last bold move, he offers him a hand. Keith looks at it, and then at his own eyes, before shaking it.

“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

Lance hopes Keith doesn’t notice the extra second his fingers linger on his palm as they are letting go and goes back to Keith’s room feeling his chest light.

It’s those things that make him understand why he feels so fascinated by Keith. Details, like this nice gesture from him, unexpected and kind. Scarce, but so pure. He goes to sleep thinking about it and wakes up the same way. It lightens his mood and gives him hope, and he decides that this last morning in Keith’s body will be a good one. He goes to the bathroom and washes his face, dries it, and then stops in front of the mirror, in what is already becoming an inevitable ritual of some sort.

He’s not afraid of it anymore. The mirror has become a strange company, one that brings him back to the reality of their situation but, at the same time, feels like an open wormhole to another reality, one where Keith is relaxed and happy in front of him, smiling, making dumb faces, looking at him with tenderness. An unknown, unexpected Keith that, he realizes, is going to be sorely missed because he’s hard to conciliate with the real one. The one from last night, who is also the one from the last months. An unpredictable man, soon going back to his random nature.

Right now, though, a neutral version stands there, still under his control, but just for a few more hours. A Keith who could say anything he ever wanted to hear, the most outrageous, impossible words… Lance wonders for a second how good would that be, biting his lower lip. It’s so tempting.

“Hey Lance,” he mutters, and then breathes deep. It’s the last chance. He can do it just to have a nice memory of what could be.

 _If only_.

“I, uh… About you, I…”

His mouth hangs slightly open for a few seconds until he sighs and hunches over the sink, resting his head over his crossed arms.

“Nah. Not worth it. Not like this.”

He sighs again and raises his head, blinking slowly. A sad smile crosses Keith’s handsome face, and he caresses his scar.

“ _Quizás algún día, eh. Nada es imposible._ ”

Nothing is impossible, save for understanding what’s behind these dark eyes when their owner is staring daggers at you. Would they ever look at him like this again, soft and forgiving?

Guess he’ll have to work extra hard to earn that. Sounds like a challenge, and, well… he likes challenges, after all. Why else would he be so hung up on this difficult boy?

“ _Nos vemos al otro lado_ ,” says Lance, smiling. He kisses the pads of his fingers and puts them on the mirror. They land near his reflection’s mouth.

Then he steps towards the door, but when he reaches it, he quickly turns around to look at the mirror one last time and, in a fluid motion, finger guns at it with a wink. Laughing at his own silliness, he feels his heart warm.

“Yeah, I can live with that.”

 

* * *

When he gets out of the room, Keith is already waiting with Hunk and Pidge in the lounge. The switched paladins cross a fleeting look, until their view is cut by Hunk standing between them, giving both a strong but affectionate hug and patting their backs.

“Let’s go guys. Allura is waiting already.”

Lance wants to say something, maybe to crack a joke and break the tension, but he can’t think of anything. Nervous, he closes his mouth and nods in silence. Pidge walks by his side, holding his arm in uncharacteristic silence. Affectionate, Lance pats Pidge’s hand resting over the crook of his elbow, and says:

“So? How are we going to celebrate when we’re back?”

He tries to sound confident, but of course his stomach is too tense to let his voice come out normally. As a result, Keith’s voice sounds a bit choked, and Hunk shakes his shoulder while they walk.

“Whatever you want, pal. As long as you’re back safe and sound.”

“We will,” states Keith. Hunk shakes him too.

“I know. So, you can start thinking if you wanna eat something special. I’ll get to it later,” he offers. Then he snorts. “Still, it’s funny how you guys really are unmistakable no matter what, huh. Kinda reassuring, I guess.”

Lance can’t argue with that. He peeks at Keith and finds him already staring his way. He smiles at him and the shadow of a grin appears on his face too. No matter what, they are together in this. And, after all... have they ever failed while working as a team lately? The wings of Voltron never fail.

This thought is the reason he enters the familiar quarantine room so relaxed. Shiro, Coran and Allura are already there. Coran is looking particularly grim since Romelle’s mysterious escape, but he still greets them cheerfully. Allura had promised she would let them know all she saw after she brought back Lance and Keith, and now she is sitting in front of an empty couch, waiting for them. This sight is a bit ominous and makes Lance’s smile waver a bit, but the morning sun bathing the princess and her welcoming expression fixes it back in its place.

“Good morning. Are you feeling well?” she asks. Lance can see in her pale features that she is still tired and worried but, as always, also determined.

“Absolutely fine,” he answers.

“I’m good,” confirms Keith too.

“Perfect.”

Allura nods at the team of scientists and doctors behind her, and they start preparing some details. Ways to hold them so they won’t fall, first aid measures, screens to check their vitals… Lance gulps, looking around stressed until he feels a soft brushing on his left hand. He looks at it and sees a brown pinky touching him, barely. He lifts his eyes and finds blue ones fixed on him, giving him a mute message.

_It’s going to be ok._

Before his beating heart settles and he can open his mouth to say something, Allura grabs his other hand.

“It will be fine,” she says, smiling reassuringly. Then she grabs Keith’s hand too. “I will bring you back, I promise. Are you ready?”

“Wait, before… uh…” Lance is so conscious of his left pinky and his right hand being held by these two people who give him insomnia, but he needs to say it now. “Say, Allura, when we are back to our bodies I… I need to speak to you. Like, soon. Would you mind?”

The pinky subtly flinches, but Lance doesn’t move his. Allura looks confused, but her eyes quickly move between Keith and Lance, and she smiles again.

“Of course Lance, you don’t even have to ask.”

“Thank you,” he smiles back. He doesn’t dare to look at Keith, and he hopes this doesn’t sound too weird to him. He can’t even imagine what is going on, probably. Not that he would care.

“So, are you ready?” asks Allura again.

“Yeah,” answer both paladins in unison. Lance isn’t sure if he should be touching someone else but doesn’t even want to ask. Instead, he just crosses his pinky over Keith’s, without looking at him. A part of himself is ready for the black paladin to pull away, but he doesn’t, and his fingers just stay in place. Lance sighs, nervous but pleased. Somehow, he feels more accompanied this way, while Allura tries to explain what is going to happen.

“We believe you were switched through Merla. She was your link, but since she was inside the machine, that is designed for this purpose, it may have been much easier, an automatic change. I’ll try to do the same, but it may take longer,” she says. She smiles at them. “You two are alive, and two separate entities, meaning you may crash in the way. You can’t let that happen. As paladins, you are familiar with quintessence and I’m sure you will know how to fight it. I can’t really explain the nature of what you may see, but keep in mind at all moment your own identity, so you don’t get lost. Just… go back to yourselves, the same way you can go back to your Lions when they call for you. I know you can do it! And I’ll make sure you can find the way.”

Both paladins nod. Lance isn’t sure he gets it but decides to trust his instincts. He throws one last look at his concerned friends, winks at them, and closes his eyes.

“We are starting. Please, concentrate on your own quintessence.”

A wave of something hot and overwhelming hits Lance and even the darkness of his closed lids suddenly disappears. He knows or rather feels he is still sitting on the couch, but he couldn’t see it if he tried. Instead, a cloudy space lights slowly before him. It’s silent, and soft, and warm. _Allura_.

This is remarkably similar to their experiences in the Astral Plane, except right now he is conscious of his own lack of physical body. He is floating in this warm space and it feels infinite and calm. But as good as it feels, the echo of his rationality is telling him he doesn’t know where to go. He is lost.

_Forward._

The place itself seems to be whispering him what to do, and he obeys. He goes forward, or what he hopes it’s forward, and suddenly, he can feel someone else around. It’s a presence way ahead, and Lance’s mind echoes with another name.

_Keith._

Faster, then. He moves towards the presence, and after a while – a second, a minute, a year perhaps— he notices that Keith is also moving towards him, and the place is being molded, narrowing. Allura is creating a road for them through their connection, one that goes from Keith to Lance with no other stops, and he just wants to get to him, to finally find him in this oppressive infinity.

_Forward._

“I’m going”, thinks Lance, and he keeps struggling. But when they get close to each other, Lance stops.

The presence ahead is also warm, but in a radically different way from Allura, and also different to how he remembers it from their Voltron connection. This is Keith, indeed, it’s the same red energy he knows so well, but stripped from its physical form, from any cover and any containment, it’s… terrifying. He is pure fire, a hot wave of raw energy, and if he could laugh, he would. Because, yeah, this is Keith indeed, and he wishes nothing more than touch this flaming presence again, but…

The place convolutes around them, and Lance remembers they are supposed to cross, and that Allura is around them, everywhere.

_Just cross._

“I’m trying,” thinks Lance. But to cross he has to pass by Keith’s side, and he isn’t moving. He is just there, blocking the way, if you can even _be_ in such a place.

And maybe it’s good that Lance was never one to do deep considerations because he has been told what to do and in this ethereal state, that’s all he can cling to. So, determined, he moves ahead again.

But it’s at the contact point where he feels it. His own energy – also fiery, also raw— collides with Keith’s and both are flooded by the scariest mix of emotions they have ever felt, so strong that Lance finds himself disoriented, ignoring where ‘Keith’ finishes and ‘Lance’ starts. It’s the exact same whirl that caught them when they were hit by the robeast and ended up switched, but worse, because now it includes something similar to a _voice_ , a bunch of nameless emotions crawling to them. It holds love, passion, frustration, and fear. Lots of fear, for two defenders of the Universe...

_Don’t get lost, don’t get lost, don’t get lost…_

It’s Allura calling them back, and Lance is making an effort to continue, to go forward, or what it feels like forward. But every step, every movement exposes memories and images that drip like water from them and melt somewhere, so Lance is suddenly picking things that don’t belong to him and mixing them with his own stuff in a mute movie full of feelings. He is at the Garrison watching a boy trashing another boy and feeling the burn of a first love, then suddenly he is looking at the stars in the desert feeling abandoned and sad. He is jumping off a cliff following blindly a man with black hair, and then he’s being carried around by someone who smells so nice. He’s feeling a shiver because an unexpected guest came to his room and his heart hurts when he makes a radical decision for his and everyone’s good. Then he is in an open space he doesn’t know that shows him snippets of the past, and he is warm and lonely at the same time, because longing is already an old custom, and that longing is scarily familiar so… is it Keith’s? Or is it Lance’s?

Their feelings overlay, crash, and then fit so well. It shouldn’t fit like this… as if they felt the same...

The passage is darkening, and Lance realizes that just like they can see into their hearts, Allura’s eyes are also catching this, and the cloudy space is chaotic and crumbly.

_Please, hurry… Please, come back…_

Time presses. Lance concentrates on pulling forward again and finds that the road is easier, because Keith is not obstructing it anymore. The worst has happened already, and they are going back. He is not moving forward anymore: the void sucks them and they lose all control over their feeble existences the same way it happened at the basement before.

And it’s a freefall again, the darkness, the g force, the confusion, and the momentary blackout. It’s a hug, and warmth, and dread all in one familiar pack.

And, of course, nausea. _Lots of it_.

Lance jolts violently in his awkward position on the couch, his body welcoming him with the prickling pinch of a thousand needles everywhere, and he feels hands over his shoulders, voices asking things that he can’t make through the white noise filling his ears and the warmth between both his hands slips away. He instinctively tries to reach for the lost contact, but his hands are cold and can’t find any of them.

He cracks one eye open and the colors are still spinning out of control, making him feel sick. Pressing his chest, he tilts his head down, between his knees, trying hard not to puke.

“Get them a towel!”

“Don’t lie them down yet, let them recover for a bit before it, they could throw up.”

The volume is rising, and he can finally distinguish the voices around, picking up the rhythm of his own gasping breaths until he slowly lifts his head and opens both eyes, feeling the dragging slick of sweat running down from his temples, ice cold.

The room draws before him, but he still can’t focus his eyes long enough to find the one he wants to see. But he can see himself first, he remembers, putting a trembling hand in front of his eyes.

A brown, long hand that can’t make its knuckles crack is there. A chocked laugh escapes from his mouth, while the scene wavers in front of him. He feels someone taking his other hand and he follows the trail to its owner’s face. Allura is pale again but smiling at him.

“Welcome back,” she says.

Lance can only smile weakly, his face still taut, but when his heart jumps in his chest like an alarm, he remembers he is looking for someone else. His neck hurts at how quick he turns his head to his left, where he finds Keith with his head hanging low, Shiro holding his shoulders while the doctors try to check his state. Lance extends a hand in his direction.

“Kei—”

The black paladin startles everyone by suddenly standing up. Still wobbly, he ignores all pleas to sit down again, slaps Shiro’s hand trying to hold him in place and makes a run for it.

“Keith!” Shiro is trying to call him.

“Is that even Keith? Did it work?” That’s Hunk’s voice.

“Yeah… yeah, it did,” answers Lance. “Let him go.”

“What? But they need to check him!” protests Pidge.

“Please, let him go,” begs Lance again. He swallows, feeling nauseous, but he is sure he’s right. “He’ll be fine.”

He knows why Keith is running away and can’t really blame him. Sighing and wishing to run away too, he supports his head back on the couch, while everyone scrambles to take care of him and the princess, who sits by his side compelled by the doctors. But among all their noise, Lance suddenly hears a soft whisper.

“Shouldn’t you… go after him?”

He turns his head towards Allura. Her eyes are full of compassion and Lance feels his chest sting. There’s a silent understanding between them, and also a new rift to cross.

“No. First, you and I have to talk,” states Lance.

The princess nods, lowering her eyes, while the doctors start their annoying round of tests and questions, taking notes and commenting on how outstanding this situation is. Lance, fully back on himself, can’t stop bouncing his leg, eager to be free.

“I think that’s enough,” says Sam Holt, taking pity on him after a while, “we already checked his state, let the poor boy go. We’ll bring Keith later too.”

“Thanks, Mr. Holt,” says Lance, standing up.

“Princess, you should rest. You are looking very drained,” warns her Sam.

“I will. Lance… would you accompany me?”

She is serious, and Lance feels his stomach tense. It’s the moment of truth he wanted so much, though that won’t make it easier… He sees Hunk, Coran, Shiro and Pidge crossing glances. They were probably about to offer taking Allura back to her quarters, but after that, Shiro pats Lance and Allura’s shoulders and just leaves with Coran, while Pidge and Hunk nod at the red paladin and turn their backs on him, to help the scientists with their data.

He gazes back at Allura, who is still a bit pale, but maintaining that serious look. He offers his arm and she takes it. They wave at the people in the medbay and leave.

The walk outside is long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable, but this time Allura breaks it.

“You said you needed to speak to me when you were back to your body. I take… it had to do with what I just saw?”

Lance tenses all over. Allura’s arm hooked around his feels relaxed, but her fingers twitch. He swallows.

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“I see,” says Allura, and they remain quiet until they arrive at the same court where they strolled weeks ago, when Lance wasn’t sure why it didn’t feel right, blissfully ignorant of his own disastrous feelings. Hit by the afternoon sun, he lets out a distressed exhalation.

“I’m not sure how much you saw. I don’t even know what _I_ saw back there…”

“Yes, it’s hard to tell, because everything is fuzzy and disconnected, but…” Allura tightens her arm around his, and her other hand goes to her chest. “I know what I _felt_ there. What you— both of you felt. And as surprising as it can be, that’s obviously—”

“I know,” he interrupts, stopping in his tracks. He clears his throat. “I mean, sorry, I know what it looks like and, well, I know it’s shocking but it’s— it’s the truth. I mean, I’m speaking for myself only but… yeah. Apparently, we… yeah.”

A chill runs through his back, because this is the first time he stops to analyze what he has just seen. In that confusing moment where he and Keith were melted as one strange entity, their feelings aligned for one fleeting second, or maybe an eternity, and the void itself screamed right at their dumb faces.  

In short, he loves Keith.

And surprisingly, Keith loves him back.

The realization hits him like a truck and he slides from Allura’s grip and bends his knees, covering his eyes.

“Lance! Are you alright?”

“Allura… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to see this. I swear I wanted to talk to you properly, I would never— I swear…”

He can’t stop blabbering until she kneels by his side and puts her hands over his shoulders. He looks at her face, and she is serious.

“Lance, I understand. I really do.” She presses her lips. “It’s surprising but, at the same time, I know this comes from a while ago. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like… I knew? Without really knowing…”

“But I swear, everything I’ve done to be better, everything I’ve told you, it was sincere. You have to know that. I didn’t even understand— tche, I still don’t really understand what’s my deal with Keith, but with you, I truly felt I liked you. I swear!”

“Lance,” this time, Allura is chuckling. She softly touches his face, and this time he appreciates the soft hand with his own skin. “I _know_. It’s fine.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry I had to pry like this. I wish it wasn’t necessary,” says Allura, now putting her other hand on his other cheek, cupping his face. “But what I saw… I’m sorry to say it like this, but I think it doesn’t compare at all to what you and I could… well, feel. For each other. I know it’s nothing compared to what I am feeling, at least.”

To think this kind of rejection would have hurt him so much before and now just relieves him must be the ultimate proof of his true feelings. Taking a sharp breath, he takes Allura’s hands over his face and stands up, making her rise too.

“Yeah, I know that too. I think I’ve always known,” he confesses, smiling softly. He tilts his head back, taking in the salty air of the desert with relief. “I guess we really weren’t meant to be together, huh. Should have known since you insulted my ears.”

Allura laughs briefly.

“I’m not proud of that. But even more than shocked, I’m embarrassed,” she admits, fidgeting. “I feel that, if not for this event, I would have made a terrible mistake. I would have been leading you on and what you can have now, you would have missed it because of me… does it make sense?”

Lance laughs. He isn’t sure if he “can” have anything yet, but that’s not the point.

“It does, but I just can’t understand why are you worried about that when you should be _dragging_ me for pestering you for so long, to end up, uh… eloping with our Leader? I guess?” He slaps his face, sighing with irritation. “I’m so sorry, Allura. I’m a mess.”

The Princess smiles, lowering her eyes.

“None of us is free from guilt. You know my story, and I was already questioning myself if I was just... taking you for granted. You make people feel good, Lance, and you are precious to me. It was never my intention, but that holds little weight when you act on it anyway, ignoring the uncomfortable truth.”

She is talking about her broken heart, of course, that tender heart unfairly betrayed. Just thinking about that, her face darkens and Lance wishes he could help her more than anything. Some wounds take a long time to heal, and the last thing he wants to do is to make her reopen it, or worse, widen it. But before he can say anything, she tilts her head to the side and shoots him a playful look.

“What about you, Lance? Are you going to act on what you feel?” she asks. Lance scratches his neck, noticing the lack of hair there. The butterflies wake up as soon as he remembers this small detail that actually started all this chaos. 

Would it really work? Was it enough knowing what he knows? He shakes his head, dejected.

“I, well… Easier said than done, I guess. You know the man, so…”

“Yes. But Keith is an honest man. Which explains why he was so mad at me, now that I think about it,” laughs Allura. But she soon stops, smiling sweetly. “Now that the truth is out there, I know he will listen to you. But I’m afraid you will have to take the first step. Will you?”

Goodness, this is why his decision still sounds dumb. Allura, as a whole, is simply too good. But when your heart commands you… can you really call it a ‘decision’? It’s more like be given an order, and the only thing left to do is to act on it or escape. So, will he?

Pouting, he simply hugs her, and she allows it, chuckling and patting his back.

“You are the best, Allura. That’s never going to change. And everything I did and said, it was genuine. I never intended to complicate things like this.”

“You have nothing to regret. I just hope your choice brings you happiness. To both of you,” she lowers her hands to squeeze his and, after a short pause, pat them softly. She separates a bit from Lance, to look at his eyes, serious.

“Lance, to be honest, the things I saw through Merla are going to cause many problems. I will tell you all soon, but you must know… peace won’t last long for us. We will have to leave again, and therefore, I want you to enjoy the peace we fought so hard to obtain.”

Lance feels the cold bite of the news in his chest. War was on the horizon, then. But Allura is already smiling again.

“I just want you to be happy, and if we go back to space, I want all of us to stay together. After all, both of you are… part of my family. And that will never change.”

This time Lance is getting misty-eyed, so he raises his palm to cover his eyes while Allura laughs softly in his arms and hugs him strongly, in a way that’s so different from before, but also feels much better. It’s genuine, pure affection, and he isn’t afraid anymore to hold her, because all doubts and lies are gone and that is the most liberating feeling ever.

The difference between like and love, between affection and passion, is suddenly so clear. Because he really, really liked her. But he truly, deeply and _absurdly_ loves him. And that’s not a choice, it never was. So, it’s time to move it and do something about that.

He separates from Allura, and they turn towards the building.

“I hope you find him soon. He’s probably so conflicted right now.”

“You know us so well,” sighs Lance, pointing to the entrance and following her. Once inside, they say goodbye.

“Good luck!” says Allura, and he winks at her as he turns on his heels, speeding through the corridors.

 _“So, if I was a loner trying to hide from my one and true love, where would I go?”_ asks Lance to himself, laughing at his own choice of words. Each step he walks makes him feel more and giddier, his legs tensing and neck stifling. He extends his recovered limbs, feeling glad of having them back, stopping in front of one of the windows to quickly look at himself and comb his hair with his fingers. Keith didn’t even try to make him look decent…

“What the hell am I gonna say?” he asks out loud, and two cadets passing by give him weird looks. He smiles awkwardly and decides he has to start somewhere, and that somewhere is probably their rooms.

He expects to find his friends there, but they are not back yet, and being past midday everyone is busy or having lunch. So, stealthily, he rings on Keith’s door. No one answers. Doubting, he presses the panel to open it, and the door slides to the side.

It’s really empty. No, almost empty: he finds Kosmo doing his favorite activity: napping. The wolf raises his head, perking up at his presence, but then the way he looks at him without blinking makes it clear that he is saying _“Oh. So it’s just you”_. Lance fidgets in the doorframe. Did he already forgive him for his little impersonation stunt from before?

Slowly, he walks to the bed and then, taking the risk, he sits by Kosmo’s side. The wolf doesn’t protest, and Lance feels he is being encouraged to do so. So, bold, he extends a hand and scratches him behind his ears. The wolf allows it and Lance sighs, relieved.

“Hey, Kosmo. I know we’ve had our disagreements, but I need to ask for a favor. No games this time.”

Lance pauses and Kosmo waves his long tail lazily, as if to state he is listening. The red paladin exhales, amused and scared in equal parts. But, over everything… anxious to find Keith.

“Do me a solid and take me to Keith. I think he needs me now… Think you could do that for me? Please?”

After a tense pause, Kosmo jumps from the bed to the floor and Lance stands up. The wolf swiftly walks around his legs and presses his body to them. Terrified and excited, Lance puts his hand over the soft back of the creature and they start jumping in intervals, startling a few people on the way, leaving flashes of blue here and there. This is not doing wonders on his already upset stomach, but the means are not important compared to the goal. Except, at that moment, he realizes he’s not even sure what’s the goal. Aside from talking… what’s next?

The thrill mixes with vertigo and when they finally stop jumping, Lance grabs his trembling knees and takes two deep breaths before raising his head and looking around. He is at one of the multiple terraces of the Garrison, the sun shining right above his head and, a few meters away, someone is leaning on the railing.

The silhouette of Keith cutting against the clear light of the desert leaves Lance momentarily breathless. His back, his crossed arms and the strong wind playing with his long hair paint such a familiar picture that it somehow  _hurts_. Before him, there’s an echo of the past that melts with the present the same way their thoughts and feelings mixed a while ago for just a second, or maybe an eternity.

But even if it is a nice and nostalgic view, Lance doesn’t want to watch at this back anymore.  It’s been so many years of that already, as a cadet first and later as a paladin. Keith always felt so far out of his reach, so far ahead that even though he would always run desperately to catch him, at every key moment he would stop, hand extended, letting him slip away without a word. When he was expelled, when he left for the Blades, when he drifted away from him after coming back… every single time, he stood there and let him go.

He could have been braver, and maybe their story would have been different, but surprisingly enough, he can't say he regrets it right now. Feeling the wind and dust of the desert caress his face, Lance is suddenly filled with the recomforting certainty that every single step – and misstep— on their wacky road somehow brought them to this very moment. And, therefore, now it’s time to make everything worth it.

Feeling chills, he pats Kosmo’s head to thank him and forces his legs to propel him forward. The wolf, always smart, sits in that place and Lance walks to Keith alone.

One step. Then another. And another.

His knees are a bit weak, but he is determined. The sound of his footsteps over the metallic plates of the terrace makes Keith lift his head in acknowledgment. For a moment, Lance thinks Keith will ignore him, but then he slowly turns to face him, and Lance can feel his stomach do a genuine backflip.

There he is. Keith Kogane, in all his intimidating beauty, looks at him with a neutral expression while the wind plays with that stupid, stupid mullet. Lance wants to laugh. This is as cliché as it gets, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

However, speaking is hard and all of his sass is suddenly nowhere to be found. He is there without a plan and his brain is all mushy. Not a good look...

“Uhh… hi. How are you feeling? Everything where it should be?”

It sounded better in his head. Keith frowns and Lance quickly walks the few steps that separate them, afraid the other will clam up. But the black paladin doesn’t back away, which is a good sign.

“Yeah,” he answers instead. “You?”

“Oh, yeah, everything back to normal,” says Lance, too loud. He feels his ears heating up while he watches the familiar dark eyes over his face. And yes, Keith is definitely the one behind them: they are back to being unreadable, though the fact they are over him is already an improvement, one that Lance never thought would delight him so much. He feels the butterflies in his stomach going bonkers.

“So…” Lance scratches his head, and the sensation is so alien that it makes him blink, confused. Nervous, he eyes Keith’s hair while he stutters. “Um, w-what are you doing here by yourself?”

Keith turns his back to him as he crosses his arms over the railing again. His voice is low and sharp.

“Waiting.”

“Oh.” Lance swings a bit over his feet, clumsy. “Waiting for what?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Lance doesn’t really understand what any of this means, but he decides that honesty is the golden rule of the day, so he will start by clarifying his side of the story.

“Okay, so… I spoke to Allura. We—"

“I know,” interrupts Keith, “I saw.”

“You… saw?”

Keith points down. Effectively, the terrace where they are offers a full view of what used to be the launching grounds, which now became the court where Lance and Allura casually strolled twice. Though Keith hasn’t said anything yet, Lance feels some tension in the air.

“Listen, I just had matters to discuss with her. She deserves an explanation.”

“An explanation of what?” asks Keith, and this finally lights Lance’s short wick.

“Don’t play fool with me, Keith, you know what you saw there, I know what I saw! And, newsflash, Allura saw it too! And she deserves better than us dragging her to our little tag game.”

“I know,” repeats Keith, and now he is clutching the railing, “I know she deserves better. But it’s not her who baffles me… it’s you.” He frowns. “What the fuck, Lance.”

Fair enough. Lance tries to calm down, inhaling slowly to soothe the anxious thumps of his chest.

“Okay, I know it might seem weird," he admits. "You saw me do and say a lot of dumb crap. I know I treated you like… like…”

“A rival? Someone you hate?” completes Keith.

“You know I never hated you! You’ve always known that, at least!” Lance walks and holds the railing, facing Keith and hoping he will look his way too. “There was a reason for that, and yeah, I know it’s a _stupid_ reason, but I also didn’t have a clue of what you thought about me… I felt you didn’t even look at me!”

“Guess you were you too occupied with your own petty rivalry to notice,” spouts Keith, finally staring at him with cold rage seeping through his features.

Lance scrubs his face, frustrated. He is not going to turn this into a fight, no matter how tempting it is.

“I know I made a bunch of mistakes, alright? And lemme tell you, you have your fair share in this mess too. But why would I want to discuss that, when the rest of it is way more important?”

Keith is quiet for a long while. Then, lowering his eyes, he says:

“I’d rather have some time to think. This is— I didn’t expect any of this.”

Lance takes a deep breath to calm his trembling legs and not allow his clumsiness with words to ruin what he has to say. Which is a lot.

“No can’t do, chief. I didn’t expect this either, but I have things I need to say, so… please...” Lance doubts a second before putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He feels the paladin slightly flinch under his touch. “Please… don’t leave this time. Hear me out?”

Keith folds his arms so tightly it’s like he is hugging himself, but at least he stays there.

The patterns of the sand surrounding the Garrison, the distant view of the rebuilt city, the Coalition ships parked here and there, and the blue sky over them give this old scenery a new taste, one that is encouraging. One that speaks of the future. Back inside his own body, Lance has never felt so alive. His blood pumping fast is a sign of that, while he is about to make the biggest leap of faith of his life. He lets the air fill his lungs before he starts talking.

“You see, I know I’ve said a lot about you running away. What I said at the medbay and when we were stranded in space, all of that came from the same place, I guess. But I know you enough by now to understand that you are not a coward. Hell, you are the bravest dude I’ve ever known!” Lance laughs, and he can see Keith’s cheeks subtly dusting of pink, though his expression is still neutral. His pulse runs faster.

“I can’t claim I know everything about you, but now that I had some uh… unexpected help, I understand you better. And I think it’s been so unfair of me to say these things when the one running away from his feelings has always been… well, me.” Lance sighs. “I know I’m not the smartest. I know I was annoying and I always pick fights with you but, everything I did had a reason., just like you had your reason to do your stuff. And now it’s so clear, I— Jesus, I really am dumb…”

“You are not dumb,” grumbles Keith. Lance blinks twice.

“Uh, okay?”

“You do dumb stuff, but you are not dumb,” clarifies Keith, and Lance rolls his eyes.

“Okay, thanks. Geez. But that’s my point. I did a lot of dumb shit because I wanted— I just wanted to know you better. And I wanted you to look at me as an equal, and I was _desperate_ because I always felt I wasn’t enough. I mean, dude, you are so…” Lance scrubs his face again, surpassed by his own feelings. “Perfect! Damn it, why?!”

Keith sighs, irritated.

“What are you even talking about? 'Perfect'? That's so stupid." 

“I know,” agrees Lance. “When I got to know you better at the Castleship I realized that. But dude, we were together for months in space, we fought an Empire! We are friends, and yeah, sure, you have your flaws, but none of the things I saw in you from the beginning have changed! Don’t you get it?”

“I don’t,” deadpans Keith. He looks right at his eyes, and their intensity could melt iron. “I still don’t understand any of this. How can this be happening, when you have Allura by your side, and I’ve just been away or ignoring you for so long. Why would you leave someone like her for someone like that? See, dumb shit.”

Lance laughs. This crude way of putting it is still funny and irritating in equal parts, but at least Keith stayed, willing to listen. He has changed and it shows more than ever: this is not the lost, gloomy kid he once knew. This is a man who knows himself well and Lance understands he won’t convince him unless he tries hard. So, he tries his best.

“Haha, yeah. This might seem surprising… not gonna lie, it’s surprising for me too. But hey, I know a lot of things about you now. I learned in five days more than in five months. Or years." 

Cocky, Lance crosses his arms and smiles smugly.

"For example, I know you sleep without pajamas like a savage, and that you are the cuddly type though you deny it. I know people misunderstand you because you don’t smile enough, and I also know you can’t grow a beard for your life.”

In a swift movement, Lance tickles Keith on his right side. The black paladin, taken by surprise, cringes and slaps his hand giving a step back, looking at him with wide open eyes. Lance laughs loudly, and the smile stays in his lips.

“See? I have the _privilege_ to know you are super ticklish, and you bet I’m gonna use it. I also know you sleep with a knife under your pillow, how sexy your voice sounds in Spanish and how you and your mom are softies to each other. And yeah, sure, I cheated. I know all of this because of some creepy Altean magic that made us go through hell. But you know what? It doesn't matter.”

Lance steps closer to Keith again, and he doesn’t back away. Their eyes meet, almost at the same height.

“All of this, I’m sure I would have known sooner or later because as long as you are _you_? I'd go right behind you, like I've always done. And even if it took us ten more years, or fifty, I'm sure we would have gotten to this point, because... because I guess it all comes to the stupid conclusion that I just…”

Is it too soon? He thinks how his thirteen-year-old self probably liked Keith and his stupid hair, and his flawless ability to fly and smack bullies, but now? They are adults and he has seen the best and the worst of Keith, as a friend, as a brother in arms, as family. He has shown him his best and worst too, shameless and annoying, but always honest, always longing for more, for _something_. And that _something_ has a name now.

Breathless and boneless out of astonishment at the depth of his own feelings, he simply mumbles:

“I’m in love with you.”

Keith’s eyes look at him free from their tough armor, cheeks lighting and mouth ajar. It’s real, all of this is real, and Lance feels euphoria filling him again. He gasps and laughs, extending his arms.

“Yeah, you heard me! I’m in love! With YOU! And you know it’s true. You saw— We were there so— Oh, man!”

He covers his face with his trembling hands feeling the giddy tickle of laughter, but the prolonged silence from the other party makes him look up, suspicious. The black paladin looks like someone just dropped a rock over his head.

“I... don’t know what to say,” he admits. Lance feels his chest deflate a bit, but he doesn’t give up.

“Consider saying ‘me too’, just a suggestion.”

“What if I just run away again?” asks Keith, suddenly. He sounds even younger, disarmed and lost. It would be funny if only their glowing future happiness wasn’t dangerously hanging from this thin thread.

“Dude, I know you never run away. I was _wrong_ , don’t make me repeat that, alright? Once is enough,” grumbles Lance. “You push me away as self-defense and I let you, every single time, ok, I got it. But not anymore, so... your answer, please?”

“You don’t get it. I’ve been trying to ignore this for so long, I’ve tried so hard to just—” Keith moves his hands around, irritated. “Forget. And you are suddenly so into me? This makes no sense.”

“Wrong again, I liked you first,” declares Lance, way too proud of such a stupid feat and extending a hand to brush Keith’s fingers, while he looks at him, dumbfounded. “Did you pay any attention to the visions, man? I may have carried a torch for you while we were students, and you didn’t even remember my name when we met again, Mullet. Try harder.”

“How is that even true, you—”

“Bold of you to question my feelings after you made me spill them all and you haven’t said a thing back yet,” grumbles Lance, losing his cool and closing their distance even more. After saying so much, his perpetual self-doubts are creeping around his head again, and if he doesn’t get some reassurance soon, it’s going to be bad. They cheated to reach this stage, anyway, why was it being so hard?

“But—” Keith is looking for one last argument, but Lance can’t deal with this anymore.

“For _quiznak’s_ sake, Keith, give up already and tell me what I want to hear. _Please._ ”

This plead ends with Keith’s resistance. The black paladin lets out a distressed sigh and the soft brush of their fingers transforms into properly intertwined hands. Lance clutches Keith’s hands and realizes his trembling is exposing him, while he feels all his courage leaving his body. He is glad he was brave enough to reach for Keith this time, but now that’s all said, he is suddenly lost. His lack of experience becomes a blatant obstacle and, unconsciously, he lowers his eyes, feeling the heat on his cheeks, swallowing hard.

But then he feels Keith’s rough fingers press harder, feeling every shiver of his hands, his thumbs tracing paths that make him look up again. And he finds a smirking Keith this time.

“You’re trembling.”

“Well, duh. What did you expect after all the embarrassing things I’ve said,” whines Lance, pissed. “And is that seriously all you have to say? ‘cause I’m feeling kinda cheated, not gonna—"

He can’t talk anymore because Keith is dangerously close to his mouth, and the contact of their hands and nose is warm, chaotic and sublime. He can finally see with his own eyes and feel with his own hands the texture of that skin, the roughness, the softness… An entirely different human being right there, in front of him, real and not a mere reflection, breathing over his lips and, miraculously, more _his_ than when he had all control over his body. _His_ . Keith, _his_ …

Lance can perceive in the other the same struggles and hunger and they won’t fight them anymore: the kiss comes when Keith’s hand rests on his nape and pulls him in. Cautious at first, their lips brush and the wet contact sends immediate shivers all over Lance’s body. He’s not even breathing, adjusting the angle and finally giving in to the sensation out of pure instinct, eyes closed and every other sense peaking.

Soft touch. Nice smell. Raw, neutral taste…

 _That’s a dangerous mouth_.

The memory floats in his mind and makes him suddenly smile into the kiss. And because he can’t say no to a challenge, it just makes him deepen it, the corners of his mouth curving as lips part and Keith just lets him in, breathing shallowly over Lance’s upper lip and as bold and wild as is to be expected from him. _Pointy teeth. Dangerous. Rough lips. Aggressive._

_The best._

They part and Lance remembers he is supposed to still send air to his brain, so he takes a deep breath but still manages to plant one more chaste peck over that mouth he adores, which apparently takes Keith even more by surprise than their previous make out, given the way his eyes look at him, face flushed and hair tousled.

Forget cute. This is simply _gorgeous._

He did that! Lance feels a stream of laughter coming and hides his face on Keith’s shoulder, snorting.

“What are you laughing at?” asks Keith, his voice sounding irritated.

“Not about you, chill,” says Lance. His long arms surround the other man and he sighs content into the crook of his neck, feeling his hair tickle him. This is beyond good, though there’s still something pending.

“So, I take it you like me at least a bit?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, I know you aren’t that shy, why are you making me suffer?”

“For the years I spent thinking you hated me,” answers Keith.

“Petty. That’s new.” But he remembers that time Keith brought him back Blue but left him chained, and grins. “Hm, well, maybe not  _that_ new.”

Lance separates from Keith just enough to raise a hand to feel the scar of his face with his own fingers. He sees that Keith is still smiling, brighter than he could ever have achieved while swapped. And through this new warm expression, Lance knows for sure that the truth is out already, though he won’t give up on hearing it from the source.

“Do you want to stroll so I can change your mind? Or do you prefer flowers?”

“No, we’re not strolling. We’re training,” Keith declares. Lance snorts.

“Romantic,” he teases, but it sounds fond instead of acid. He’s so ridiculously love-struck. Especially when Keith keeps showing him that small, sly smile.

“You said you wanted a partner. I’ll be your partner.”

Sounds like a challenge and a declaration all in one, and Lance’s blood boils. Yup, this is the guy he chose. The one who knows how to hit each and every single one of his keys, one who will always be a challenge and his respite at the same time. However, Keith’s eyes are hiding something else. They are defying him, but a shade of uncertainty is also visible in their soft corners.

Such a sight makes everything easier because there’s only one road ahead to follow.

“So… you’ll be my partner, then?” asks Lance.

Keith purses his lips while the red tint appears again on his cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” he confirms. Lance feels his entire body jittery. To think these simple words could fulfill so many wishes.

“My ranger partner?” he adds. Keith rolls his eyes.

“Fine, whatever.”

“My _space ranger partner?_ ”

This time Keith just raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, but Lance simply can’t stop smiling, can’t stop teasing, can’t stop brimming with joy. Without waiting for Keith to answer, he laughs and just hugs him again, tight, while he tickles him on the side and Keith struggles to free himself from his grip.

“C’mon, be my space ranger partner! You know how it is. Lance and Keith, neck and neck… and I guess mouth and mouth now?”

Keith pinches his hand. Lance cringes a bit at it but doesn’t let go.

“Ow, meanie, is that a yes or nah?”

He feels Keith exhale a nervous chuckle, as if he can’t help himself, and whisper near his ear a soft and simple: “Yes”.

‘ _Thirteen-year-old me, just wait seven years and you’ve got this’_ Lance thinks, thanking the Alteans and their weird magic for the extra push, as he kisses Keith’s temple and his hand softly cups his nape, fingers freely entangling in that black hair he loves, yeah _loves_ so much, just because now he can, and wants to. The prospect of doing this to his heart’s content from now on, with no restrictions, no fears and no lies between them is enough to make him dizzy of pure happiness, there on that terrace, bathed in the yellow light of the afternoon, where everything had come full circle, only to mark a new beginning, thrilling and exciting.

Because yeah, he didn’t know at the time, but he had been right. Keith is – and always was meant to be— the future.

 _His_ future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We reached the end! And wow I'm cheesy! Haha.
> 
> This would not have been possible without the invaluable help of my friend [Kunfetti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/pseuds/Kunfetti), and of course, without your encouragement, feedback, comments and ideas. Thank you so much for reading this story, I hope it has been satisfying enough! And I offer a personal apology to Romelle's stans. I love the girl too, but I wanted to add some unresolved drama... You know, in case we gotta write a fix-it later? *wink wink*
> 
> This is my first finished multichapter and you all made it a wonderful experience ;-;. Now I'm eager to write some one shots, trying other tropes or AUs and, overall, anything you'd like to read, so please leave me any suggestions, petitions, etcetera on [Tumblr](http://www.silverineontherun.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/silverineon)! I really need them and chances are I might do what you ask!
> 
> Again, thank you all so much, and see you soon!


End file.
